


Hamartia

by GrinningColossus



Series: Three Acts [1]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Canon-Typical Violence, Frottage, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Reluctant friends to lovers, Underground
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-13 01:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrinningColossus/pseuds/GrinningColossus
Summary: Lured into a trap during a hunt, Jonathan Reid and Geoffrey McCullum are closed in together for a length of time that becomes increasingly dangerous as Reid goes without feeding. Rescue comes in the form of a most unlikely person, but will it be in time to save one of them from doing something they might regret?





	1. Chapter 1

**Hamartia -** **_(noun)_** _[hah-mar- TEE-uh]_

1. _In drama_ : A fatal flaw leading to the downfall of the hero or heroine.

2. _In the Christian religion_ : A "weakness of the flesh"; the inability to resist sinful acts.

 

\----

 

“McCullum,” said Reid disapprovingly, but with the gleam of a joke in his eye, “why am I not surprised?”

The shape of the good doctor materialized out of the nighttime fog as Geoffrey neared the sewer entrance. He scoffed. “I don’t have to explain my comings and goings to the likes of you, leech.”

“Very well, then,” the vampire replied breezily, gesturing to the opened grate. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I conducted my investigation in tandem to your...unspecified business?”

All that could be heard from the dark maw of the sewer was the distant rushing of water and nearby drops falling to the stone floor. But this was certainly the centerpoint of the activity, Geoffrey was sure of it now. Protocol dictated he return with backup.

His eyes picked out a small, flapping scrap caught on the grate: a blood-soaked snippet of what was surely some poor citizen’s clothing.

Damning protocol, _common sense_ dictated he return with backup.

And yet here stood Doctor Reid, a man Geoffrey could attest held his own in a fight, and if fate was as twisted as he feared, Reid was no doubt on the same trail.

By way of answer, Geoffrey pushed past Reid into the darkness, being sure to check him on the shoulder as he did. He didn’t pause to make sure Reid was following, but the chilling scrape of the sewer gate upon stone as the vampire pushed it closed was all the confirmation he needed.

He was about to pull his torch from his belt when cold fingers against his wrist startled him.

“What, leech?” he cursed.

“We’ll not get the drop on anyone if you’re waving that thing about,” Reid said, somewhere next to his left shoulder. “Allow me to lead.”

Geoffrey hoped Reid could see him rolling his eyes. “What a gentleman we have here. Why should I let you lure me into some bone-strewn dungeon, eh?”

“Your imagination runs as wild as always, Geoffrey,” Reid chastised. “What we seek is an Ekon, I’m certain of it. You can use the torch once we’ve got it cornered, but it’s not wise to give away our position so soon.”

The vampire began to walk down the passage, and after a moment Geoffrey followed begrudgingly. At first it was quite difficult given the total absence of light and the silent way Reid moved, but as his eyes adjusted he found he was able to grasp the outline of Reid’s body as they made their way northwest and eventually into a large cistern.

A pathway ran the circumference of the room, interrupted here and there by gushing pipes. It seemed to Geoffrey they were heading a certain way, but all of a sudden Reid changed their direction, turning on a dime to an opening on the opposite side of the chamber, barely visible by the faint halo of distant light.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” he hissed.

Reid stopped, and Geoffrey very nearly ran right into him.

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m following the blood trail.”

“You...you can see that?”

“Even the weakest vampire has a sense for where there’s blood to be found, McCullum. I thought you of all people would know that?” It seemed to be rhetorical, for Reid turned again and resumed walking towards the source of the light.

As they went, the nature of the stone around them began to change, and evidence of recent activity became more and more abundant, especially as the level of light increased. Footprints, discarded bones, a shoe.

“We don’t get many opportunities to talk to leeches,” Geoffrey admitted quietly, after a time.

“I wonder why that is? It might have something to do with you and your boys being a little too friendly. Tends to put a soul off conversation.”

“Oh, we’re plenty friendly,” Geoffrey chuckled. And then, after a moment, “We’re getting near to the West End.”

Reid nodded. “Judging by the spread of the violence, I believe the entry and exit points for this Ekon are on two different ends of town. I believe this is a vampire that does its killing by the docks, but takes its shelter closer to home. Perhaps somewhere it’s more familiar.”

“The question is, does the creature hole up somewhere above ground? The kind of leech that hides in its fancy manor by day?”

Clearing his throat, Reid looked away. “I’m, ah, not sure. It’s likely that once its business is concluded, it emerges back into civilization looking none the worse for wear.”

“So why don’t you ask your friends at the Ascalon Club? Surely they’ll know him, if he’s some toff leech.”

Once again, Reid looked uncomfortable. “I’m not welcome at the Club any longer.”

Geoffrey’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” he snickered, “I’ve got to hear about this.”

Reid busied himself examining a chunk of brick that seemed to have been recently torn off, probably as a means to avoid eye contact. “It’s simple, really. They wanted me to turn Aloysius Dawson into a vampire. I refused.”

Geoffrey gaped. “There’s nothing _simple_ about that! Dawson, really? _The_ Dawson? That old codger wanted to become a vampire? And you _refused_?”

“His reasons were entirely selfish, if you can believe such a thing. He seemed to be under the impression that his wealth was the end all, be all. That immortality was his right as a wealthy man. That the gift, or the curse, of vampirism could be bought.” A decidedly bitter note snuck into his tone as he spoke. Seeming to catch himself, Reid shook his head a little. “And besides, I’m not in the habit of spawning progeny.”

Not even knowing where to start on that, Geoffrey picked his poison and ran with it. “Really? Not the fatherly sort, Reid?”

“I’m not sure which I resent more, the terrible thing that was done to me, or the manner in which it was done. No, if I’m to turn another, there had better be a damned good reason for it.”

Geoffrey was about to reply when suddenly Reid held up his hand, cocking his head to the side as if to listen.

He pointed and whispered, “ahead, round to the left. A single target. Come.”

They stalked down the hall quietly, Geoffrey readying his crossbow and Reid’s hands twitching into claws. Just as they were about to turn the corner, a dark shape whirled past them.

“This way!” Geoffrey bellowed, taking off after it.

The figure, a man in a ratty black coat, was sprinting away from them. There was no way to get a clear shot off at him, with the way the passage twisted and turned, so they had no choice but to chase, and chase they did. They ran and ran until Geoffrey became short of breath (Reid hardly seemed fazed, the bastard), and just as he feared his lungs would give out they caught up to the figure just as it heaved open a large metal door and slipped inside, leaving the door just slightly ajar.

It was a strange looking door, more like a submarine bulkhead than something one would expect to find in a sewer. Reid beckoned him be cautious but Geoffrey hardly listened, wrenching the door open wide and following the vampire into the dark space beyond.

Something touched Geoffrey’s back and he whirled, ready to scrap, but it turned out to be Reid, pressing in close to curse the hunter’s recklessness.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he was saying, trying to pull Geoffrey from the room. There was a sudden shift in the light; a shadow passed over the entrance, and then the narrow shaft of light became even narrower. Before Geoffrey fully grasped what was happening the door shut with an earthquaking _thud_ , followed swiftly by the sound of iron groaning as the wheel handle was turned, sealing them in.

Over Reid’s shouting he barely made out a clang and more scraping, and then at once it went quiet.

\----

Geoffrey figured it was acceptable for him to light his torch now, even if was only for a short while. For all he knew they could have become trapped somewhere with little oxygen, and though it would cause no harm to Reid, it would be very...inconvenient for Geoffrey.

In the torch’s flickering but bright light he saw Reid hunched over the door, gritting his teeth and heaving against it with all his might.

The door didn’t budge.

“What’s this, now? Where’s all that leech strength your kind goes on and on about?!”

Reid turned on him, leaning into his face. Geoffrey became quickly acquainted with two rows of sharp, sharp teeth as the vampire hissed at him, “You damned fool! It was a trap, couldn’t you see?”

“I admit I was stupid,” he growled in return, “I was blinded by my pursuit of the prey. Alright, your majesty?”

Reid shook his head, pondering the door again. “And here I thought I’d lucked out, being graced with the presence of the leader of the Guard of Priwen himself.”

“I’m the one trapped down here with a leech that can’t even open a god-damned _door_.”

“It’s barred on the other side. He put something through the mechanism. All my strength will be for naught against it--it must be released from the other side.”

“Ha!” Geoffrey laughed mirthlessly. “Well that’s wonderful, then. This sewer is a real thoroughfare, lots of folks coming through here at all hours ready to help us out.”

Reid pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Geoffrey’s eyes were drawn to the dark scar across it.

“There is a way out of this, I just haven’t thought of it yet.”

“Of course there is, and who says you get to be the genius?” Reid looked unimpressed. “Look, my men know whereabouts I was scouting. They might not start to worry until night falls again, but they _will_ come looking when they do.”

“I sincerely hope you’re right, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a look around to see if there’s anything that can get us out of here faster than that.”

“Why don’t we both give it a try at the same time?” he said, stepping into Reid’s path. He would have bet money the next words out of Reid’s mouth would be some jab at the uselessness of human might, but the half-hearted shrug he received instead proved him wrong.

“It can’t hurt,” was Reid’s answer.

The two of them pushed and pushed, Geoffrey leaning all of his weight against the bulkhead and using the muscles of his thighs until they burned. He was forced to concede that there was no way out of that door for them, unless someone could assist on the other side.

This time when Reid struck off into the dark corners of the room Geoffrey didn’t stop him.

There was a distant clicking sound, and then suddenly the room filled with light as electric bulbs came to life around them. There were two bulbs nestled between wall and ceiling at opposite ends of the room, a single lamp just behind where he was standing, and another, more distant light at the end of what turned out to be a hallway leading into another room.

The space was....not what he was expecting, not at all. If this was some twisted vampire’s murder dungeon, he did a remarkable job of mopping up the mess.

The room was lavish, decked out from end to end with fresh carpeting, lounge chairs, paintings, tables, and even a humble kitchenette off to the side.

Geoffrey hurriedly put the torch out and went in search of Reid. He found him in the other room, a bedroom, as brilliantly decorated as the living area. The bed itself was enormous, with a quilt that looked three feet thick and velvet drapes, god help them, _velvet drapes._

Another small room attached to the bedroom turned out to be a spartan, but still very functional, loo.

Reid was crouched in front of an open safe just to the side of the bed, leafing through a stack of papers.

“Did you just open that?”

“Oh, yes.” At least he had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed. “Enhanced hearing, very simple thing to hear the tumblers.”

“Uh huh.”

“None of it is very interesting, I’ll admit, but I can reasonably assume this place belongs to a gentleman by the name of Eustace Mallory.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Nor have I. His last will and testament is here, and it’s on its sixth revision.”

Geoffrey chuckled. “So we’re dealing with someone rich and paranoid.”

“Which would make this…?” Reid looked at him expectantly.

“Some kind of bunker.”

“Some kind of bunker,” he echoed. “Yes, or perhaps ‘panic room’ is the more apt term. Here are the blueprints.”

Reid offered the paper to him, and Geoffrey reached for them. “How kind of him to leave these for us.”

“Kind, but not terribly useful.”

As his eyes scanned the page, Geoffrey understood what he meant. “The door is the only entrance. Easier to keep people out.”

“And easier to keep us in. I wonder if our Ekon friend intends to return for us once we’ve simmered long enough.”

“Maybe the leech is Mr. Mallory?”

“Doubt it. The will points to someone in their seventies and in failing health. This Ekon couldn’t have been turned a day past his twenty fifth birthday.” When he handed the blueprints back over, Reid arranged them with the others, stashing the papers away and closing the safe. “It looks like we may be here for some time.”

Luckily there was a fairly large stash of rations in the kitchenette, though the old bastard hadn’t thought to leave a can opener. That’s what knives were for, Geoffrey supposed.

When he turned to tell Reid, the vampire was standing right behind him. “Jesus!”

“My apologies,” the other replied, not appearing all that sorry.

The violence, the spilling of blood, the claws, the teeth--all of those leech qualities were one thing, but what had always unsettled Geoffrey the most was their complete and utter silence. They crossed the room in a whiff of smoke, scaled buildings, darted to and fro around the battlefield. A hunter could hear nothing, absolutely nothing, and suddenly a leech would be there, bloody mouth sharp and hungry.

“Can’t you just, you know… _poof_ out of here?” he asked angrily, gesturing with his fingers.

“Vampires cannot _poof_ through walls, McCullum. You certainly are expecting a lot of me tonight, for a man who should know better the abilities of vampires.”

“You can’t blame me for being a little desperate.”

“Are you claustrophobic?” Reid asked, and surprisingly he was not teasing; rather, he stared into Geoffrey’s eyes with a furrowed brow and the quirk of a frown.

“No!” he spat, waving the doctor away.

“Well then,” Reid said, straightening up and tearing his gaze away. “In that case, you are more likely to die of boredom than anything else down here. There is nothing for us to do but wait.”

That in itself was enough to frighten him, though. The idea of being trapped down here forever, of starving to death without ever seeing the sun again, without his boys knowing what happened to him...but it didn’t do to dwell, and he’d never been the type to drag his feet over what he couldn’t change. All there was to do was look forward and endure.

Reid’s presence didn’t hurt, he had to admit. From the outset, even when he’d been startled and pissed off at the sight of yet another leech hovering around Pembroke, there was something very striking about Jonathan Reid. He was imposing, yes, very tall (though Geoffrey was a smidge taller, thank you); dark, with shadowed eyes and thick beard; stern but scarred features; the set of his shoulders a tell to his rich and spoiled upbringing; a profound amount of danger; and yet there was a gut-wrenching aura of gentleness, a doctor’s unwavering interest in others’ wellness, the sense that, somehow, everything would be alright when Doctor Reid was there.

Truth be told he couldn’t think of anyone better to be trapped with, in terms of skill and temperament, and he very nearly opened his big mouth to say exactly that, but caught himself at the last moment.

“Curious, though,” Reid was saying. “There isn’t even a speck of blood in here. Hardly what you’d expect from a vampire’s lair.”

Geoffrey’s stomach dropped. He’d been forgetting something, hadn’t he? It wasn’t only a cool-headed, competent doctor he was trapped with--it was a vampire. A vampire that would get hungry.

A hungry vampire, and what would Geoffrey be but a walking, talking blood pack, one which was both readily available and unable to run away?

He couldn’t help eyeing the doctor suspiciously. Surely Reid had more control than that? There was a reason he’d let him live.

“The sun is coming up,” Reid said abruptly.

“How can you tell?”

“I just know.”

“You may as well bed down, then, seeing as we’ve got nothing else to do for the foreseeable future.”

“You should, as well. It’s been a long night.”

True enough, despite all that Geoffrey’s years of training screamed at him not to fall asleep while _sealed in an underground box with a vampire_ , he was quite fatigued.

There was one awkward question still lingering, though Reid seemed to be one step ahead, as always, and graciously offered the bed to Geoffrey.

“I don’t move during rest,” he explained. “It’s not a human’s sleep. The sofa will do just fine.”

And so they retired to their respective spaces, Geoffrey shrugging off his heavy overcoat and weaponry, and sinking into the plush bed, delighting in the idea that he was soiling the pristine sheets with his muddy skin.

He heard nothing from the other room, and after a long, long time of continuing to hear nothing, he finally allowed himself to succumb to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

To his surprise, Geoffrey slept longer than he usually managed. Perhaps it was the silence, the lack of the hustle and bustle of men moving about and shouting at one another. Perhaps it was that he was tired. During the epidemic there simply weren’t enough hours in the day for a vampire hunter. 

It had been a dreamless sleep, too. Very curious. 

There were still no sounds in the other room. Carefully he extracted himself from the blankets, took up his weapons, and crept into the living area. The lights were still on and he easily made out Reid’s form on the largest of the sofas, a comfortable-looking green monstrosity that faced the only exit. 

He couldn’t help himself: he peered over the prone body, checking for signs of life. Priwen did not often stumble upon sleeping vampires and he’d never been able to observe one in statis before. Reid’s face was stone still and his chest did not rise with breath. He’d taken off his coat, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up mid-forearm, but otherwise looked like some poor dead sod buried in his Sunday best. 

Reid’s features were so controlled when he was awake, and he seemed always to be frowning. In sleep he looked as serious as ever, but maybe there was less of an edge there. 

He didn’t know how long he stood there, observing the unnatural stillness of Reid’s body, but after some time there was movement behind the man’s eyelids. Not wanting to be caught, Geoffrey made to step back and get as far away as he could before Reid woke properly. 

He didn’t get the chance. 

Before he could take so much as a step Reid’s eyes snapped open, and faster than he could comprehend the vampire launched himself at him. The back of his head exploded in pain as he was rammed into the wall next to the door. Reid’s body was engulfing his, pressing him back, and though he resisted the hold, pushing at Reid’s shoulder and clutching at his elbow, it was like trying to will an iron statue to bend. 

Reid’s hand held his head forcefully, fingers at the back of his skull and thumb occupying the space between his ear and cheek. Using the grip Reid pulled Geoffrey towards him, and all at once Geoffrey’s worse nightmare was happening: the insistent, sharp press of cold teeth was at his neck, Reid’s mouth stretched wide over his hammering pulse. 

He was going to die like this; Reid was going to drain him dry. 

But just as soon as the flurry of movement had started it stopped. Reid froze and then, for the first time, inhaled slowly through his nostrils, exhaled against Geoffrey’s neck. Lips slowly closed around the fangs, the doctor’s wet tongue meeting his flesh briefly. Gently, so as not to break skin, Reid pulled himself away, letting his grip on Geoffrey’s head loosen. 

“I am so sorry, Geoffrey.” Reid’s deep voice rumbled through his chest, pressed as they were against one another. There was something else, something heavy against his thigh, but just as he attempted to take stock of it Reid pulled away and put half the room’s length of distance between them. 

“What in the bloody hell was  _ that, _ leech?” Geoffrey growled. He wanted to yell but it came out in a whisper. 

Not looking at him, Reid confessed, “I’ve never had anyone standing so close when I awoke. I...I could only see--sense--the blood, your heartbeat. My mind took leave of my senses entirely. I deeply apologize for my actions.” 

Bless him, he did seem to be very sorry, but if he could hear Geoffrey’s heartbeat before he could only imagine what it must sound like now, with adrenaline flooding through every vessel. The danger had not passed. 

“It’s not even been a full day and you already can’t control yourself. This will end badly for one of us.” 

This time their eyes met, and Reid’s were determined, blue and icy and firm, and he said, “I promise it will not happen again.” 

Geoffrey  _ tsk _ ed. “Save your empty promises, beast.” He lifted a hand to his neck, feeling the spot where Reid’s mouth had been. His fingers came back dry.

“I didn’t break the skin,” the doctor explained unnecessarily. “I agree we would have been in a much worse situation if I had.” 

“I suppose I should be grateful, then,” Geoffrey sneered. 

“I, for one, am grateful you didn’t stake me the moment I leapt.”

The truth was the thought had barely occured to Geoffrey at all. His hunter’s instincts usually protected him in times when things happened so quickly, rigorous training and muscle memory leaping in to fill the void when a leech attacked suddenly from the shadows, but aside from the roiling fear in his gut and his weak attempt to push Reid off, there had been nothing. 

“You’re worth more to me alive than dead,” is what he said instead. “Or so I thought. Now I see how feral even you are, as much as you pretend otherwise.” 

The barbed words hurt as intended, Reid’s shoulders wilting. “I suppose that is true. My Maker once told me, ‘It is wise for the huntsman to sometimes let his prey go, but no famished hunter can run for long.’ It seems that sentiment can go both ways; our tenuous agreement isn’t destined to last.” 

That was a grim view, indeed, but not entirely wrong. Reid had Geoffrey playing hide and seek with his principles ever since Reid let him go at Pembroke. Priwen put up with Reid’s continued existence because he was useful to the community and abstained from preying on the innocent. Eventually that grace had to run out, didn’t it? 

Geoffrey was done talking for the time being. He gathered some of the rations from the kitchenette, mindful of Reid’s position and careful not to turn his back on him. As he passed the vampire he thought he detected a faint inhale (was he  _ smelling  _ him?) and, ready to wash his hands of the whole bizarre incident, Geoffrey retired to the bedroom again, locking the door behind him. 

\----

The night dragged on. There had been times of boredom for him before, hours spent waiting for a leech to show itself, the nights before the epidemic was in full swing when every so often there wouldn’t be a single creature roaming the streets. This was entirely different, a mind numbing lack of stimulation. There were some novels on a shelf in the bedroom but their subject matter was painfully dull to him.

It was made worse by the gnawing, persistent anxiety lurking just at the back of Geoffrey’s mind, the fear that they wouldn’t be found after all. His boys would be looking for him, wouldn’t they? 

Of course. He was sure of that. He was less sure they would know where to look, deep into the sewers as they were. 

Reid didn’t disturb him, but about halfway through the evening Geoffrey could make out the low tones of the vampire speaking. Curious, he quietly unlocked the door and peered out into the living room. He couldn’t see Reid but the man was definitely talking, seemingly to himself. Bewildered, Geoffrey entered the room.

Reid sat in one of the chairs, head bent down and elbows on his knees as if in some kind of prayer. “If you can hear me,” he murmured, “please come at once. I am showing you the location. Please. I apologize for asking you to put yourself in danger but I see no other way out of here. I fear I may do something I regret if we aren’t rescued soon.” He was about to go on but must have noticed Geoffrey’s presence, for he turned around abruptly. 

“Strangest Hail Mary I’ve ever heard,” Geoffrey mumbled. 

“I know you’re joking, but it is somewhat of a last resort. One that makes me feel foolish and hopeful in equal measure.” 

Geoffrey crossed his arms. “So who were you talking to?” 

Reid stood up, but when Geoffrey took a step back the vampire stopped. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he said, “When I mentioned my Maker earlier, it gave me an idea. I’ve never met him in the flesh, so to speak; he would talk inside my head, as though he had a direct connection to my thoughts.” 

The hunter had heard of this before, master vampires leading their progeny about like puppets on a string. He’d never really stopped to consider what sort of creature Reid’s master was.    
  
“I told you before that I’m not in the habit of creating more vampires. There is...one. He’s not really mine,” Reid added quickly at the flash of interest in Geoffrey’s eyes. “I’ve only had a small hand in making him what he is.” 

“What does that even mean, Reid? Who is this man?”

“Forgive me if I don’t wish to disclose his identity to you,” was Reid’s swift reply, his smile humorless. “The point is that I’m not sure this will work at all. I’ve never made that sort of connection, at least not consciously, as far as I’m aware. There are so many factors at play here. If I’m capable of establishing the connection, if he’s capable of hearing it, if he’s capable of hearing it from  _ me _ …”

Geoffrey nodded slowly. “Alright, I get it. It’s a shot in the dark and I won’t get my hopes up. At this point I’m open to any suggestions if they might get us out of here quicker.” He didn’t want to voice his doubts about Priwen finding them, though they had been stewing at the forefront of his mind. 

Reid suddenly stiffened. “Why don’t I keep trying, and you can return to the bedroom?” It took very little detective work to understand what he meant, between his pleading gaze and the way his fingers flexed.  _ Lock yourself back up, please, before I misstep again _ .

Tired of fighting, Geoffrey agreed. As he pulled the door shut he could hear Reid resuming his strange prayer. 

\----

Many miles away, glass shattered as Sean Hampton dropped what he was holding. 

\----

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The night wore on. Geoffrey contemplated sleep again, just to escape the dread and boredom for a few hours, but he felt too anxious to close his eyes. Instead he took to canvassing the room for what was probably the third or fourth time, and even felt over each tile the loo, hoping to find something, anything, perhaps a maintenance hatch or an old tunnel. 

It was behind the bookcase, a big, hulking wooden thing with paneling three fingers thick, that he thought he may have found something. It was a faint outline in the wall that hadn’t been completely painted over, and if he felt behind the bookcase he could trace the divot back a small ways. The trouble was that the bookcase obscured most of it, whatever it was, and the thing was extraordinarily heavy. 

With little care he swept the books off, hoping to lessen the weight, but by the time the thing was empty it still seemed to weigh a ton, and the carpeted floor didn’t help, either; even forcing his whole body against it barely had an effect. 

Perhaps he could just push it down? Wasn’t like he cared if it broke, after all. 

So he set his body against the side of the bookcase, wedging his foot in between it and the wall, and used his leverage to wiggle it back and forth, building up momentum, and then, quite suddenly, it fell forward as planned.

There were a few things he didn’t expect, though--the noise was incredible, for one, and by the sound of it the bookshelf gave the floor a good cracking underneath the carpet. A fissure ran up the back of the shelf but it didn’t quite break apart. 

What it did was wedge itself upwards, clamping down on his foot and crushing it against the wall. With a pained grunt Geoffrey fell forward onto the fallen bookcase, a sharp spike of hurt shooting up his leg. 

“Jesus Christ!”

In no time at all there was an urgent knock at the door. 

“McCullum, are you alright in there?! What’s going on?”

Geoffrey tried to free his foot and groaned at the pain his movements caused. He propped himself up on his elbow and panted. 

“I’m fine, Reid, still in one piece”

“You want me to come in?” There was something significant about that question but in his current position Geoffrey couldn’t devote the brainpower to understanding what it was. 

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Then let me in,” Reid said insistently. 

“Can’t.” 

A brief pause. “You can’t?” 

“Can’t get up. Just...open it.”

“It’s locked.” 

Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “So break it down.” 

“I will if I must, but this door will be useless to you afterwards.” 

He was worried about that still? How precious. 

Gritting his teeth against the sting, Geoffrey yelled, “Just do it!”

The second wooden piece of furniture in the bunker met its maker as Reid practically put his foot through the door. The splinters shattered out and into the room, the locking mechanism wrenching away from the wall. The door fell to the ground with a  _ thump _ and a giant hole in it. 

“Unbelievable,” was the first thing out of the doctor’s mouth, but to his credit he rushed over and immediately began to assess the damage. “Only Geoffrey McCullum could injure himself while alone in a locked room.” 

Reid’s skilled hands flitted over the leg of his trousers, lifting them away to view the spot where his ankle was wedged against the wall. The sharp edge of the bookshelf had cut into his calf and he was bleeding. Reid stiffened, his nostrils flaring, but he said nothing and so Geoffrey held his tongue. 

“It’s not broken,” he said instead. “Just hurts.” 

Reid braced his hands against the bottom of the bookcase and pushed away from the wall. Blessed circulation was restored to Geoffrey’s foot and he pulled it to him, slowly setting it at a natural angle. 

“Let me look,” Reid murmured, shockingly gentle. Geoffrey had never been at the end of his medical expertise, but with the cool, careful fingers darting up and down the bones of his ankle and the muscle of his calf, and the concentrated set of the doctor’s eyes, how he worried at his lower lip, the way he twitched when a drop of Geoffrey’s blood ended up on his fingertips...Geoffrey couldn’t feel too cross about it. 

Upon removing Geoffrey’s sock and shoe he carefully rotated the ankle, eyes flitting to Geoffrey’s face every so often to gauge if any of the movements hurt. 

“I told you it’s fine,” Geoffrey chastised, but it came out softly, so softly, just a whisper in the achingly quiet room. 

By the time Reid put his foot down, seemingly satisfied, Geoffrey could see his hands shaking, could hear him breathing erratically. 

“Reid,” he said, this time more sternly, reaching out to grab the man by his wrist. 

When the vampire’s eyes met his, Reid’s pupils were so wide there was barely a hint of blue left. His mouth was open, and as soon as he noticed Geoffrey looking at his fangs Reid whipped his hand up to cover them.

It wasn’t the first time since they’d become locked down here that Geoffrey considered doing something monumentally stupid, but looking at how desperate Reid was, in sharp contrast to his usually stoic temperament, not to mention his ability to put his own desire for blood aside to attend to Geoffrey, he realized he was going to do it regardless of how ill-advised it was. 

“Would it be so bad?”

Reid looked at him sharply. “What?”

“Can you control it? Just...drink a little?” 

“McCullum,  _ no _ . Do  _ not  _ make this offer.” 

“I’m serious,” he growled, tightening his grip on the vampire’s wrist. “Aren’t you less of a threat if you’ve had something as opposed to nothing?” 

“I cannot guarantee that,” Reid hissed between clenched teeth. 

Geoffrey pushed him away, standing shakily. It hurt to put weight on the ankle, but it was only due to fading tenderness. The bed was close and he sat down quickly, rolling up the leg of his trousers. The blood from his cut was rolling out slowly in fat drops. Some of it had stained the fabric. 

Reid hadn’t moved but his eyes followed Geoffrey like a hawk. 

Geoffrey beckoned to him. “Come on, then.” 

Like a shot Reid was at his side again, kneeling before him and cupping his ankle carefully with one hand. He was frowning deeply. “McCullum. Geoffrey. I will do everything in my power to control myself but you must understand it isn’t always so simple. If I go too far, you will need to hurt me, distract me.” 

Geoffrey reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved his lighter. “I understand.” 

The vampire nodded, eyes already half-lidded.

Geoffrey jumped at the first hesitant press of Reid’s tongue to his skin. Reid let out a choked sound, almost like he’d been stabbed, as he lapped the droplets of blood that had dripped down Geoffrey’s leg. It sort of...tickled...at first, but when Reid put his mouth over the cut and sucked, drawing the blood into his mouth, a feeling like lightning raced through his stomach and he found himself trembling as Reid went on. 

In short order there was no more blood to be gleaned from the cut, the platelets already working to seal it up, but Reid did not let him go. He pressed his nose into the juncture of Geoffrey’s knee and calf, inhaling deeply. 

“You’ve no idea,” he murmured, voice a dark rumble, “how maddening it has been. To have the scent of you permeating this space, to be  _ soaking  _ in it for hours on end, to see your pulse and know I could not touch you…”

Geoffrey seized him by the collar, yanking him up to eye level. Reid seemed dazed, his eyes still unfathomably black. Geoffrey tilted his head, baring his neck. 

A flicker of humanity remained, for Reid hesitated again. 

But he must have been able to comprehend the solemn certainty on Geoffrey’s features because a moment later he groaned, let his eyes slip closed, and crushed his lips to Geoffrey’s. 

It wasn’t so much a single, long kiss but a series of short and passionate jabs of Reid’s tongue into his mouth, as though he wanted to know every inch of Geoffrey’s tongue and teeth. Reid’s mouth tasted vaguely metallic but it didn’t put him off; if anything, Geoffrey tried to make himself available to Reid’s desperation, allowing the vampire to take hold of the back of his head almost the same way he’d done hours before, when Geoffrey surprised him when he woke. 

The deep tonguing tapered into little pecks, each conveying gratitude beyond words, and then Reid--no, Jonathan--pressed his lips down his cheek, jaw, and finally his pulse point. His fingers tangled in Geoffrey’s hair, pulling his head back for better access to his throat, and Geoffrey swallowed reflexively. 

“It will feel good, I promise,” Jonathan breathed, comforting himself as much as Geoffrey. 

_ Get it over with _ , he wanted to reply.  _ Just do it, leech _ . Rather more honestly, he instead moaned “Please.” 

Jonathan had done this to him before, during their fight all those months ago, but it didn’t feel this way, not even close. Then it had been for survival, the vampire pulling Geoffrey’s life force into himself to stay standing, and Geoffrey had been riding so high on Arthur’s blood hardly any physical wound seemed to perturb him.

This time the fangs broke his skin slowly, puncturing with a feeling like a chill, a shock. There was the briefest flash of pain before something else took over, something compelling and inexplicable. He might have been moaning but it was hard to hear over the rush in his ears as he clutched at Jonathan’s sleeves. Jonathan’s tongue was so hot against his skin, each pull of his blood into the man’s mouth tugging at something in his gut, making him feel like he was rising up, up…

Jonathan was shoving him up onto the bed, climbing over his lap, pressing their middles together. 

And, oh, he was hard--

Geoffrey, too, realized he was painfully aroused and dizzy and panting in Jonathan’s ear--

One particularly forceful suck had Jonathan growling against his neck and the nature of it, how predatory and ancient a thing it was, had goosebumps racing up Geoffrey’s arms, and suddenly he realized this may have gone too far already.

He had just enough sense to scrabble for the discarded lighter and after a few false starts managed to get the damn thing lit. He held the flame to Jonathan’s bare forearm, and the moment the skin began to blacken the vampire pulled off him with a hiss. 

Geoffrey yanked back the flame as soon as the fangs came out and Jonathan took a few moments to find his senses. 

“Geoffrey,” he murmured, still threading his fingers through the hunter’s hair, and began to lap above the puncture wounds on his neck almost apologetically. 

He leaned back just in time for Geoffrey to watch him chase the last of the blood on his lips. The feeding was over, this could all end here, and yet the sight of the absolute euphoria on the good doctor’s face, not to mention the fact that both of them were still hard and throbbing, had Geoffrey ready to beg for more. 

It should have been easy to put it together before but the reality only sunk in for Geoffrey in that moment. He’d been uncharacteristically lenient with Jonathan, always. He had to hop himself up on Arthur’s blood just to get the balls to face him in what Geoffrey thought was to be a fight to the death. Jonathan put a lot of complicated thoughts into his head about the nature of vampires, their relation to humans, their place in the world,  _ Priwen’s  _ place in the world, and…

And in spite of (because of? Could that be true?) Jonathan’s vampirism he’d been pulled kicking and screaming into his orbit.

He had it bad for the doctor. 

Real bad. 

Clearly the feeling must have been mutual, for while he was off having his internal crisis Jonathan had brought their lips together once more. This time there was more than a hint of blood in the taste of his mouth but again Geoffrey found he didn’t mind so much, wondering what it would be like to chase something else of his on the vampire’s tongue. 

They kissed and kissed, and then Jonathan’s palm was sliding between them, cupping his erection through his trousers, and Geoffrey was saying it again, “please, please, please…”

Jonathan used his clever fingers to open both their trousers, pulling Geoffrey out first and giving his length a firm stroke that had the hunter swearing, then extracting his own erection. 

When their cocks met it was like flint on stone. Geoffrey never felt such a thing, and maybe it was because he’d just had his blood consumed or maybe it was because it was Jonathan, but he felt sensitive enough to leap right out of his skin. 

Jonathan pushed his shoulders down so Geoffrey was laid flat against the bed and then began to grind against him in earnest, those penetrating blue eyes stripping him bare down to his soul, and all he could do was raise his hips to meet each of Jonathan’s movements and return his sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that devolved into the sharing of breath as they both became too far gone to maintain composure. 

Jonathan came first, his cock pulsing and spreading hot seed onto Geoffrey and the place where they were joined, and the positively wounded sound Jonathan made was all he needed to follow suit, bucking into Jonathan’s grip and saying his name over and over. 

This should have been the awkward part, logically speaking: giving into a thing he was afraid to even name, with a man he was meant to despise, in a place where there was no retreat, no way to save face afterwards. 

But it wasn’t. Jonathan laid beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world, pressing chaste kisses to his temple, his forehead. The air was cloying with the scent of sweat, blood, and sex, and Geoffrey couldn’t remember the last time he felt so sated. 

Sated and  _ tired _ . 

“You should rest,” Jonathan murmured, brushing Geoffrey’s hair from his face. God, tenderness was the last thing he would have expected in a joining like this and yet he couldn’t get enough of it now that he’d seen how easily Jonathan gave it. “It’s getting late and you’ve had blood taken.” 

“Right, wonder who’s responsible for that?” he replied gruffly, but he allowed Jonathan to see that he was smiling. 

“I hope it wasn’t too much.” 

“It wasn’t, I feel fine.”

Jonathan cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over his stubble. “I don’t just mean the blood loss. How do you feel about...what happened?”

For a moment Geoffrey wasn’t sure how to answer that. He searched Jonathan’s eyes for a hint of guile but all he saw was vulnerability and that shade of pain that just never seemed to leave him. 

Slowly, he said, “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Jonathan released a breath. “Good. I’m glad. Nor do I.” 

“As much as I want to pretend it was a surprise, I don’t think it’s so strange, us ending up this way.” 

“Hmm.” Jonathan made him lift his body just enough to get the blankets out from underneath them. They were both a mess, but it was nothing they couldn’t address in the morning. Er, the evening. 

Jonathan didn’t ask if it was alright for him to stay in the bed with Geoffrey, but he didn’t need to. The hunter was glad for the company. 

As he shut his eyes, Jonathan leaned in close and whispered, “Geoffrey McCullum, you always,  _ always  _ surprise me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sean will make his appearance in the next chapter, I promise!


	4. Chapter 4

There was something odd about his dreams, but Geoffrey couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was, lost as he was in the feeling of warmth and satiation that permeated his body. There was a sense of proximity, that he wasn’t alone...but that couldn’t be. He hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since, well. 

Could it really have been before the epidemic? 

Things moved so quickly then, there simply wasn’t time. 

Troubled, he slowly opened his eyes. There was a figure next to him, laying close. It had a head of tousled black hair. 

The night came rushing back: the blood, the bed,  _ Jonathan _ , the blood drinking, the insistent, tugging desire for more, more, more. Even thinking of it sent tingles down Geoffrey’s skin, and he couldn’t help but roll onto his side, facing Jonathan, and take a moment to look at him; he lay just as deathly still as he had seen him the day before, not breathing, and yet because of how close he was Geoffrey could feel the life in him. 

Jonathan was shirtless, and Geoffrey couldn’t explain it but the moment his hand crept over the swell of Jonathan’s bicep and towards his chest there was an answering heat in the vampire’s skin, a hum, the sensation of a connection returned. The kind of sensation you didn’t get from dead bodies. 

Before he knew it he was threading his fingers gently into the root of the soft hair covering Jonathan’s chest, mapping old scars with his fingertips, drawing himself closer to the vampire until the front of his body was pressed along Jonathan’s side. The vampire didn’t smell like a coffin, no; he smelled of medicine, and gunpowder, and night air. 

Maybe Geoffrey was imagining things. 

He jumped when Jonathan laid his hand over Geoffrey’s, not having noticed he was awake. Instead of speaking he continued his caress, drawing his hand down Jonathan’s side, over his ribs, towards his hip, and ducking just inside the seam of his trousers teasingly. 

All at once Jonathan rolled over and took him by the throat in one of his large, skillful hands, tilting Geoffrey’s chin up and slotting their mouths together. The kiss was messy and hot, Jonathan returning the exploration by following the curve of Geoffrey’s back and, upon reaching his arse, tugging him close to Jonathan’s hips. 

He was already hard, and so help him, Geoffrey was too. 

He used to think of Jonathan as somewhat untouchable. Nothing seemed to ruffle him, and he certainly didn’t carry himself in a way that suggested others were welcome to lay their hands on him. But now, now that he knew he  _ could  _ touch him, that the touch would be welcomed, even, he almost couldn’t stop doing it. 

Geoffrey broke away enough to wriggle out of his (stained, probably ruined) shirt, and it was easy enough to kick off his trousers because it seemed he’d never done them back up after their romp the night before, and Jonathan must have been up to the same thing because when they came back together and Jonathan grasped his hips and rocked into him there was nothing but skin on skin. 

It was so warm and electrifying. Geoffrey panted into the juncture of Jonathan’s neck and shoulder, kissing and even daring to nibble a little. He wanted...everything, honestly. Just everything Jonathan was willing to give him. All there was left to do was ask for it. 

Geoffrey lifted Jonathan’s leg over his hip and reached between them, angling his cock underneath Jonathan’s. He moaned as his cock was engulfed in the heat of Jonathan’s skin and the soft but heavy weight of his balls against him as he trembled and thrust weakly. 

“Jonathan,” he said, mouth open against the vampire’s chest. 

“My, my,” was his reply, his voice impossibly deep and dark with sleep and desire, “aren’t you the eager vampire hunter tonight.” His hands kneaded the flush of Geoffrey’s hips and muscled thigh, urging him on. 

When Geoffrey pulled back to look at him, Jonathan met his gaze unflinchingly. “I want,” he started gruffly. “Can I?”

“Mm, not sure what you’re asking, Geoffrey.” 

Knowing he couldn’t articulate it, Geoffrey grabbed a handful of Jonathan’s arse and growled. 

Jonathan’s eyes darkened and he leaned down to steal a searing kiss. “Yes,” he murmured as they parted. “But you will need something to ease the way.” 

For a moment he thought his plans had been foiled, but then Geoffrey remembered he might have just such a thing. As hard as it was to tear himself from the inviting warmth of Jonathan’s embrace, he rolled away, peering over the side of the bed for his coat. 

In one of the inner pockets was a little tube of grease, a protectant for minor wounds and chapped knuckles on cold London nights, and Jonathan seemed very pleased when he dug it out and showed him. “It will do,” he said, slipping a little into doctor mode. 

They returned to their position and, coating his fingers liberally with the protectant, Geoffrey reached between Jonathan’s legs and up, the vampire exhaling a small puff of breath when his fingers breached him and began to work him open. He whispered words of advice and encouragement, along with some truly creative filth about what he hoped Geoffrey would go on do to him, and though it was all very distracting Geoffrey stayed true to his task, stretching Jonathan’s body carefully but thoroughly. 

Jonathan knew when he was ready. He took up the grease tube and put some on his hand, then used it to slick Geoffrey’s cock up. It was maddening, and just as Geoffrey was about to start begging, the vampire turned around, beckoning him closer. 

With his chest now flush against Jonathan’s back, Geoffrey grasped his cock and lined it up, sinking slowly into Jonathan’s body little by little until fully sheathed. 

When his hips met Jonathan’s flesh the vampire broke out into a full-body shiver. Geoffrey slid his hand over his hip and skimmed his fingertips teasingly along Jonathan’s groin while at the same time landing kiss after apologetic kiss to his shoulders and back. Jonathan arched and reached behind him to grasp at Geoffrey’s hair, and the second he began to pull on it Geoffrey knew he wouldn’t be able to stop until this was over. 

He thrust into Jonathan’s tight heat, slowly at first but then picking up the pace as Jonathan begged him for it between his teeth. 

“God, Geoffrey, please,” he murmured, drawn out and breathless, as Geoffrey pounded into him over and over and bit down on his shoulder. He grabbed Jonathan’s cock and tried to stroke him in rhythm to the glide of his cock in and out of Jonathan’s body. 

He broke out into a sweat, the temperature in the room almost unbearable, as he lost himself in the act of fucking Jonathan. 

And then Jonathan was removing Geoffrey’s hand from his cock and bringing it up to his mouth. He wondered what could possibly motivate Jonathan to not want his prick tugged but then it became startlingly clear as Jonathan pressed his lips against the inside of Geoffrey’s wrist and then, with little preamble, bit into his pulse point. 

The stab of pain was brief, quickly overtaken by the sensual hold Jonathan managed to get on him when drinking his blood. He might have wondered why that was, if it was something any Ekon could do to him, or if it was something Jonathan had to  _ want _ to make him feel, but it was difficult to grasp any thought that wasn’t the slick slide of skin, the building of an orgasm in his balls, the wet tongue laving at his wrist...

...the sinful, inhuman noises Jonathan was making as he sucked Geoffrey’s blood and then came, untouched, spurting pearly white onto his stomach and the sheets. 

“Geoffrey,” he moaned into his wrist, the rumble of his voice lighting up every nerve in Geoffrey’s body, and he swore and thrust harder and swore again and let go, emptying himself within Jonathan’s body. 

He held the vampire close as the pulses of his orgasm turned weak, and when he came to his senses he realized just how sticky with sweat he was, how hard he was breathing, the feeling of his heart beating rabbit-quick in his chest. And all the while Jonathan was licking the last of the blood from his wrist, moving gently over the wound as if to soothe. 

Jonathan gently moved away, Geoffrey’s softening cock sliding out of him followed by a small gush of seed, and instead of the smart commentary he was expecting, Jonathan surprised him by kissing him once more, deep and long. 

All he could think about as Jonathan’s tongue moved against his was all the things he wanted to do, the ways they could fuck and fight together, how this couldn’t end once they were free of this place. 

Jonathan graced him with a sly smile as they parted. “Shall we hit the showers, soldier?”

\----

The shower was an awkward affair but a rather fun one, if he was being honest. The washroom was so small and the two of them so large that it was a puzzle to fit the both of them under the spray of the rudimentary showerhead. The water was warm, but not hot, and they didn’t know how long it would last, so it seemed only logical for both of them to shower at the same time.

This resulted in elbow knocking and foot crushing, but the soap was fancy and smelled good and Geoffrey was allowed to see every inch of Jonathan’s skin unhindered by clothing, which was quite pleasant indeed. 

\----

Geoffrey slouched on the chaise lounge, feet propped up. It was certainly a different sort of physical activity he’d taken part of than usual, and his body felt sluggish and tired for it. 

He and Jonathan sat in comfortable silence, Jonathan flipping idly through one of the books Geoffrey had decided long ago was of no interest to him. 

The anxiety was still there, the cloying fear that they would never get out. The phenomenal sex helped, of course, but it didn’t set aside the fact that they had to escape sooner rather than later. The human food could run out. Jonathan could get so close to starving that it would pose a real problem, worse than before. He had no doubt Jonathan could control himself better out in the open night, but stuck in a cramped space with a live blood source, impossible to escape the knowledge that it was  _ right there _ ? It did things to a vampire’s resolve, Jonathan had told him as much. 

He was considering mentioning it, truly, but there came a sound that was both far away and close, something that sounded like scratching, or perhaps grinding? 

Jonathan was immediately alert, head swiveling to face the door. Before Geoffrey could ask he held up a finger and walked to the door, listening hard. 

Geoffrey was on his feet when the sound came again, much louder than before, and it was a jarring metallic scrape that set his teeth on edge, followed by a  _ clank  _ and a  _ thunk _ . Then the creak of a large metal wheel turning. 

Jonathan leapt back just in time as the door was wrenched open, the air of the sewer rushing in as their little pocket was breached. 

Geoffrey rushed to Jonathan’s side, ready for a fight, but it was a small figure with sandy brown hair and piercing Skal’s eyes that entered the room. 

“The Sad Saint?!” Geoffrey barked incredulously. 

“Sean,” Jonathan greeted, much more politely. “You’ve no idea how grateful we are to see you.” 

Sean Hampton glanced around the room, his gaze lingering an extra moment on what seemed to be Geoffrey’s neck. 

“I may have some idea, Doctor Reid. Your missives were very...desperate.”

“Him?!” Geoffrey gestured to Sean. “This is who you were trying to contact?” And since when had he been a Skal? Priwen had been sleeping on this one. 

“Indeed. I suppose there’s no stopping you from learning his identity now. I didn’t want to risk it, in case it didn’t work.”

“Aye, I’d say we’re well past that!” Geoffrey wanted to laugh. This was too good to be true. 

“It worked,” Sean affirmed. “It was quite startling, really. I’ve never experienced anything like it, when your voice was in my head.” He came into the room further. “I’m glad I arrived when I did. I imagine this was a dreadful situation for all involved.” 

“You’ve no idea,” Jonathan said with a wry twist of his mouth. 

Sean looked like he might ask something, but decided against it. Instead he rubbed at the rosary around his neck as Geoffrey and Jonathan gathered their things. Geoffrey left behind his ruined shirt. The two of them had gone through the wardrobe in the bedroom but the bunker’s owner was at least two sizes smaller than either of them. 

Instead he’d slipped on his undershirt, and now that it was time to leave he buttoned his coat up over it. It would have to do until he could get back to the Guard and a fresh set of clothes. He’d certainly traversed the streets of London in worse. 

He did a last sweep of the bedroom, pleased at the complete mess he and Jonathan had made of it, and when he straightened up he noticed the figure of Sean Hampton in the doorway. Sean took in the battered door, the toppled bookshelf, the rumpled sheets. Perhaps he saw even more with his leech senses, Geoffrey couldn’t say. 

The Saint was gracious enough to say nothing, only asking if Geoffrey needed any further help, and then Jonathan joined him at the doorway to see what the holdup was. 

Geoffrey opened his mouth to answer, but then came another voice from the living room, one that didn’t belong to any of them men in front of him. 

“You can’t be serious,” the voice was saying. 

Geoffrey quickly joined Jonathan in a dash to the source, careful to keep Sean behind them without needing to trade a word. 

It was the Ekon, the one they’d been chasing those few days ago that felt like months now. He was Ascalon-looking, with posh clothes and haughty eyes, but his mouth was twisted in a nasty grimace. 

“I leave an Ekon traitor and a vampire hunter in a room together, and when I return, not only have they not torn each other to pieces but now there’s an  _ extra _ ? What even is that thing?” he spat, gesturing in Sean’s direction. 

Jonathan bared his teeth. “You have a lot to answer for, friend,” he growled, uttering  _ friend _ in the same tone one might use to say something else entirely.  _ Motherfucker _ , perhaps. 

The Ekon pouted. “You’ve made a right mess of the place, too. Good old Dad left this for me, and now you’re ruining the fun little experiments I’ve been planning.” 

“Your father is Eustace Mallory?” Jonathan asked. 

“ _ Was _ ,” the Ekon hissed. “He’s dead. And I don’t have to suffer being ‘junior’ anymore. They’ll all die, and I’ll still be here.” He grinned. “At least I’ve learned what not to do next time.” 

Geoffrey had had enough. “There won’t be a next time, leech!”

The Ekon giggled and disappeared in a puff of smoke, his laughter lingering in the room.    
  
“Let’s go,” Geoffrey said urgently, motioning for Jonathan to follow as he sprinted through the door. 

Jonathan took a moment to approach Sean. “Wait here,” he beseeched him, and when Sean nodded, Jonathan vanished and reappeared further down the sewer tunnel, joining Geoffrey in pursuit. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the last chapter: I don't think I can explain how relieved I was to find in my research for the chapter that, yes, both Vaseline and the word "motherfucker" were around in 1918. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading so far. I'm glad you're here for the ride. :)

~~~~\----

 

Geoffrey tore down the stone corridor after the Ekon. He was fast but Jonathan was faster for his abilities, shadow jumping in front of him and startling him for a moment. He recovered his pace and the two of them flew around a corner. The Ekon hadn’t gotten far, and with a quick glance at once another they split, flanking around their prey and boxing him in. When the tunnel forked, the Ekon hesitated a moment too long and suddenly Jonathan was there, appearing at the Ekon’s side and slamming him into the wall.

The Ekon clawed at Jonathan, narrowly missing his face, and the doctor elegantly dodged backwards and pressed in again, seizing the Ekon around the waist and hurling him onto the floor.

As this was happening Geoffrey loaded his crossbow and, once Jonathan was out of the way, fired at point blank range into the Ekon’s side. He’d been aiming for the heart but the little demon was writhing and hissing.

The bolt slowed the Ekon down a little but didn’t prevent him from rocking back onto his shoulders and using the momentum to swing his legs up, knocking Jonathan off balance and to his knees. With the other vampire momentarily out of the ring, the Ekon leapt up at Geoffrey and got a swing in at his thigh, slashing his trousers and breaking the skin, before Geoffrey retaliated with a left hook into his jaw.

Jonathan was on hit feet and approaching the Ekon from behind. The Ekon, sensing his approach, quickly jumped backwards, propelling himself straight into Jonathan. This time it was Jonathan sandwiched against the wall, and the Ekon, claws gleaming, went berserk, slashing this way and that, keeping Jonathan stunned and distracted. Myriad cuts appeared on his arms, chest, and neck, blooming bright red into the fabric of his coat.

Geoffrey loaded another bolt and raised the crossbow. This would be an important shot and a difficult one, but his hands were steady as he aimed.

Over the Ekon’s shoulder, he made eye contact with Jonathan and nodded, jaw clenched.

All at once Jonathan shifted his center of gravity and dropped down. Safely out of range, Geoffrey pulled the trigger.

The bolt sang through the air for only a moment before lodging itself straight into the Ekon’s head. The Ekon immediately fell to the ground and didn’t move, blood slowly pooling beneath his head onto the stone.

Geoffrey approached and kicked him. When there was no reaction, he knelt and flipped the body onto its back, produced his trusty stake from its holster, and stabbed the corpse’s heart for good measure.

When he looked up, Jonathan was kneeling on the other side of the body, and he was rifling through the man’s pockets. Geoffrey frowned.

“If you’re preparing a lecture regarding the sanctity of a corpse and my violation thereof, you should save your effort,” Jonathan murmured, turning out the pockets on the inside of the Ekon’s coat. A small ring of keys clattered against the ground and Jonathan squirreled it away on his own person. Other than the key they found some coins, which Jonathan took, and a valuable-looking ring and pocket watch, which he left.

Thus looted, the two of them left the body behind, tracing their steps back to the bunker.

“That should have been over faster,” Geoffrey complained.

“Forgive me for not being at my best,” Jonathan shot back, but he was chuckling. “I’m a bit peckish.”

“Didn’t it help at all? The blood you took from me?” It had only been the night before that Jonathan had drank from him, and then again a little more when they...well. Had it worn off so quickly? If so, that was very bad news and pointed to their situation possibly being more dire than he’d thought. He was feeling more indebted to the Saint each passing moment.

Jonathan gazed at him, eyebrow quirked. “How much did you think I took from you? I did my best to take only the minimum necessary.”

Geoffrey didn’t know how to answer. Sure, he’d stopped Jonathan with the lighter against his skin, but he knew from experience that enough time had still passed that the vampire could have drained him dry, if that had been his intent.

As they walked they passed through a large gate which, when closed, would block off the section of tunnels that led to the bunker. The lock had a similar look as one of the keys they’d found on the body, and sure enough when Jonathan tested it they were able to lock the gate behind them.

“Interesting. I wonder what the rest are for.”

There was a second door Geoffrey noticed, now that he was looking, as they approached the bunker. Not having had time to linger in the passage before, he hadn’t realized it was there. It was built to be subtle, painted the same colour as the surrounding stone and laid so seamlessly within the wall that one had to stand at the perfect angle to see it at all.

They had to cycle through a few keys to find the match, but finally one slid home and the lock clicked. As soon as the bolt was drawn back the door popped open enough for Geoffrey to get his fingers around it and yank it the rest of the way. It was pure darkness, and Geoffrey refused to be fooled twice.

“I’m not going in there.” He coughed. “Not first, anyway.”

“Lucky for us, that’s unnecessary. I can see from here it’s barely a closet, and there’s a ladder going up.”

“I bet that’s our ticket out of here.”

“Indeed. Shall we fetch Sean?”

The Saint in question had obeyed Jonathan, to Geoffrey’s surprise, and was waiting for them just inside the bunker. He examined the hatch, noting the large, jagged piece of metal which was undoubtedly what the Ekon had used to wedge the wheel shut. It looked quite heavy, and the door itself was no small obstacle, either. It would seem Sean Hampton was capable of dealing with it easily, and Geoffrey tucked the knowledge away, stepping through the portal to join the two vampires inside.

He swore he could feel the temperature change.

The two of them were standing there, maybe two meters apart, and neither said anything. Sean’s fists were clenched and his eyes, those strange, shocking, pearl-coloured Skal eyes, were focused solely on Jonathan, and it was Jonathan who broke the tense silence.

“I’m sorry, Sean, I didn’t realize this would happen.”

Geoffrey frowned and walked towards Jonathan. “What’s going on?”

Sean uttered a strange sound and bared his teeth for a split second before reigning himself in, taking a deep breath and grasping at the crucifix around his next. “There’s no need to apologize, Doctor Reid. I didn’t know, either,” he said shakily. “It should be me apologizing for my behaviour.”

Gritting his teeth, Geoffrey muttered, “I can’t help but feel like I missed something.”

“It’s not important right now,” Jonathan insisted.

Geoffrey was about to call bullshit when Sean interrupted. “The doctor is good to try and respect my privacy, but I think we may be past that. You fought that Ekon, you have been injured, and you are bleeding. It is affecting me very strongly, I fear.”

Both Geoffrey and Jonathan had injuries, and both of them had the Ekon’s blood on them. “Shit, we’re covered in that bastard’s blood.”

Sean’s gaze was uncomfortably piercing when he turned to Geoffrey and said, calmly, “I apologize for being blunt, Mr. McCullum, but a dead Ekon’s blood is of no interest to me.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Jonathan seemed embarrassed, which in any other circumstance would have been delightful, but Geoffrey wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of the underground and into fresh air and a new set of clothes and, hopefully, far away from this awkward standoff. “We should get out of here, then.”

“I agree. Let’s handle this once we’re clear of this godforsaken place.” He gestured to Sean. “We believe we’ve found a way. Are you feeling well enough to follow?”

“Yes, Doctor Reid. It is nothing I can’t conquer, with faith and willpower.”

Leaving the bunker behind--and good riddance, too--the three made their way to the hidden door and Geoffrey used his lighter to find the ladder in the dark. “Looks like it goes up a way.”

“Hopefully all the way to the surface. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go first. Geoffrey, I think you should follow behind me.”

“Why in that order?”

“Because I’ve got the keys,” Jonathan replied smartly. It didn’t explain why he’d specified Geoffrey to be next, but the meaning clicked as they began their long ascent: he wanted Geoffrey as a buffer between him and Sean.

The climb went on and on, and by the time they reached the end Geoffrey’s arms were aching and his trousers had been rubbing against the cuts on his thigh, making them angry and painful.

“This is the end,” Jonathan announced, somewhat unnecessarily. There was a jangle of the keyring and some fumbling, but then the narrow shaft was flooded with low light as Jonathan pushed aside the hatch above them.

They climbed out into a dimly lit basement, Geoffrey offering Sean his arm to grasp onto to pull himself up.

Jonathan turned to them. “We’re alone.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Reid.”

Nevertheless they proceeded quietly, creeping up the stairs and into what turned out to be an average-sized but richly furnished manor.

“Look,” Geoffrey said, pointing to a portrait as they passed. “ _Eustace Mallory, Sr._ ” The old man in the portrait was stately and bore more than a passing resemblance to the Ekon they’d fought. “Imagine giving everything to your son, only for him to turn out like _that_.”

“If his father was paranoid enough to have his own bunker built below his house, we might assume the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree.”

It seemed most of the young Ekon’s deviant acts had been committed underground; the house was nearly spotless of blood, Jonathan confirmed, and even a sweep of the Ekon’s bedroom revealed nothing overtly sinister. The only thing of interest was a letter which lay on a small end table with its seal broken.

“That’s an Ascalon letter,” Geoffrey said with certainty, and Jonathan picked it up to read it.

His eyes widened as he read. “Indeed, it’s from Lord Redgrave.”

“How did you know?” Sean asked, curious.

“We’ve recovered plenty of their trash off leeches. I’ve seen that seal more times than I can count.”

“And what does it say, Doctor Reid?”

“It’s in regards to Mallory Jr.’s application to join the Ascalon Club.” He looked up from the letter, crinkling his eyes. “He was rejected.”

Geoffrey scoffed. “But he was such a lovely man.”

“Yes, it’s hard to believe. What’s more, Lord Redgrave specifically mentions the bunker and a plan Mallory had to use it. We’ve seen firsthand what that plan was. I’m also mentioned by name.”

“Don’t tell me that Redgrave bastard sicced Mallory on you on purpose?”

“Quite the opposite,” Jonathan said, handing Geoffrey the letter to see for himself.

It was the truth: it seemed Mallory had attempted to use his sick plan as a testament to his worthiness, and Redgrave not only denied him but was practically pleading with Mallory _not_ to put his plan into action because it could attract unwanted attention. “‘Particularly that of Doctor Jonathan Reid, a persistent creature you would be wise to fear’,” he read out loud. “Must have been a hell of a black eye you gave them, _doctor_.”

“I did kill a large portion of their membership,” Jonathan admitted. “And returned later to force Redgrave to give me William Marshall’s blood.”

“Fucking hell!” Geoffrey burst out. Sean flinched. “Was that the same night you came to beg Arthur’s blood off of me?”

“Yes,” Jonathan answered, eyes twinkling. “But fortunately you were much more amenable to my request.”

Yet another thing Geoffrey learned that undermined his overall sense of security. He may as well give up and build his own bunker, at this rate.

Jonathan tucked the letter into his breast pocket and, upon deciding there was nothing further for them in the house, they unlocked the front door and finally stepped out into sweet open air. Geoffrey sucked it in, feeling all his exhaustion catching up to him at once.

When he turned, though, Jonathan and Sean were having another bizarre standoff on the front steps, Sean practically swaying on his feet as Jonathan grasped his shoulder to brace him. He looked the street up and down.

“We’re not far from my family’s mansion. I suggest we rest there until tomorrow.”

“Not the hospital?” Geoffrey said, surprised.

“My home is much closer, and I’m not certain Sean is well enough to reach Pembroke safely.”

“You go, then. I need to get to Priwen.”

“Oh no you don’t. You’re hurt and I insist on taking a look. Besides, sunrise is too close for my comfort.” As Geoffrey drew himself up to protest, Jonathan sent him _a look_ , the kind of look he’d have been hard pressed to ignore even before they’d started sleeping with each other. “Please, Geoffrey.”

Curse him.

\----

The Reid manor, he had to admit, was a gorgeous piece of architecture, and the inside was even friendlier, looking meticulously cared for even though Jonathan had explained only his elderly mother and the family servant, almost equally aged, lived there.

“They are asleep, I hope,” Jonathan whispered to Geoffrey as they entered the foyer, Geoffrey having to practically carry Sean Hampton over the threshold. “If you meet anyone, it’s alright to talk to them. However, if you would be so kind as not to mention…” He trailed off.

Geoffrey nodded. He hardly needed to be told not to scare an old woman with vampire talk the moment he met her.

Jonathan led the way upstairs and into what must have been his bedroom.

The furnishings were stately and comfortable, and Geoffrey almost cracked a smile at the anatomical skeleton model near the window. Before he could help himself he inhaled deeply, the scent of Jonathan filling his nostrils strongly enough to stir something inside of him.

Jonathan pulled the chair out from the desk and made Geoffrey sit. Sean was instructed to sit on the edge of the bed. With his patients subdued, Jonathan began flitting about, going in and out of the room a few times to bring in supplies and water and linens. It was amusing to see him so much in his element, even outside of the hospital and with such mismatched patients.

When he shut the door a final time, Jonathan made his way to Geoffrey and brought a basin and bandages with him.

“I’m going to attend to Mr. McCullum first, if that’s alright,” he said to Sean. The Skal seemed dazed and only bobbed his head in agreement. “Human fragility, I’m afraid,” he said to Geoffrey now, mouth twisting in a wry smile. Geoffrey wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but he was distracted from his thoughts when Jonathan asked him to remove his trousers.

He obeyed, unconcerned with Sean’s presence, and now with free access to his wound Jonathan began to attend to him. The disinfectant stung and Geoffrey tried not to hiss, but soon Jonathan was pressing soothingly cool, wet cloth against his skin, cleaning him carefully.

“Well, Mr. McCullum,” he announced as he leaned back. “You’ll be pleased to hear you don’t require stitches.”

“Very reassuring, doctor. I assume I can keep the leg?”

“It was uncertain for a while there, but I think we’re out of the woods.”

He pressed gauze gently against the clean wounds and wrapped them, tying off the bandage expertly. He fixed his blue eyes upon Geoffrey, holding his gaze for perhaps a few moments longer than was necessary. “Is there anything else that needs attention?” he asked, voice deep. The absolute devil, doing this when someone else was in the room.

“You know damned well,” he spat, but Jonathan looked pointedly over his shoulder in Sean’s direction and Geoffrey swallowed hard. “No, doctor, that’s the only thing.”

“Good. There is one more thing I would ask of you tonight, Geoffrey.”

“What’s that?”

Jonathan stood and approached Sean, placing his medical tools on the table near the bed. Sean was sitting ramrod straight and had apparently been watching Jonathan tend to Geoffrey. One hand was on his knee, the other, as it always seemed to be, at his rosary.

“Lord help me,” he said when Jonathan sat down next to him.

“I’m going to allow Sean to drink from me, and I’d appreciate it if you would supervise.”

Sean had to have known this was coming, but he still looked shocked. “No, Doctor Reid, that would not be appropriate. My sins and shortcomings are my own to absolve.”

A pained look crossed Jonathan’s face. “It is neither a sin nor a shortcoming to desire sustenance, Sean. I know what Ekon blood does to Skals. I know it is something you all crave, something that helps nourish you.”

“And where did you hear a thing like that?” Sean muttered.

Jonathan looked away. “I...surmised. I heard things when I visited Old Bridget.”

“Makes sense,” Geoffrey added, and the two looked at him in surprise. “Skal means ‘slave’, does it not? I’m not interested in arguing politics at the moment, but historically Skals serve their Makers. They’re compelled to, aren’t they?”

“I did not come to find and free you because I was _made_ to,” Sean said, indignant.

“I didn’t say you did! I only meant that there’s evidence to suggest Skals aren’t tied to their masters for purely voluntary reasons.”

“You’re forgetting I’m not Sean’s Maker,” Jonathan interjected softly.

“But William Bishop is dead, Doctor Reid, and your blood is far more powerful than his.”

“Another Skal sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to _summon_ Sean the way you did,” Geoffrey agreed. “A summons you _voluntarily_ chose to heed,” he amended, seeing Sean’s expression.

“Sean,” Jonathan said, drawing his attention back, “the reasons are irrelevant. I understand the pull of the blood. I feel it all the time. It has distracted you, and until you are sated you may pose a danger to your flock.” He faltered, uncharacteristically anxious. “I understand that the first time was not...ideal. I hope you understand everything I did, I did for your best interests. I exploited your Skal nature because I _needed_ you to comply. To save you.”

“I won’t deny I’ve had my misgivings about that incident, Doctor Reid. I do understand what you did for me. I wasn’t thinking clearly. You saw what I refused to admit. Regardless, I’m hesitant to do this again.”

For a second time Geoffrey felt that he was missing some large details, but he didn’t dare interrupt.

Jonathan reached over to the table and took up a scalpel. Though his clothes were stained with blood, the wounds he sustained in the fight had long since closed. He shuffled closer to Sean.   
  
“Please, Doctor, don’t,” Sean practically whined and moved to get away. At a look from Jonathan, Geoffrey cut him off, standing in front of him and forcing him to sit back down.

“Doctor Reid is going to take care of you,” he said softly. “He drank from me, when we were trapped in that awful place. There’s no shame in taking what you need.”

While Sean was distracted with Geoffrey, Jonathan used the scalpel to cut a steady line in his forearm. The blood immediately began to rush out in a curtain of red, and he brought it in front of Sean. Geoffrey knelt and, because it felt like the right thing to do, placed his hands over Sean’s knees, applying gentle pressure to keep him in place.

Sean resisted for an admirably long moment, trying to turn his head away, but when a droplet escaped Jonathan’s arm and landed on Sean’s trousers he broke spectacularly, seizing Jonathan’s wrist and latching onto the wound with a groan.

Geoffrey wasn’t sure what part of it had his blood quickening; perhaps it was memories of the times Jonathan had drunk from him, and an empathetic tug in his gut at the thought of what Sean must be feeling; perhaps it was the almost erotic way Sean’s lips and throat worked over the cut, the appreciative noises he made; or perhaps it was Jonathan’s expression, his eyes half-lidded as he watched his half-progeny drink.

Either way, Geoffrey felt dizzy with how suddenly his cock filled while watching the exchange, and when Jonathan’s nostrils flared and his eyes fell on Geoffrey he knew the vampire was well aware of his state.

Knowing Sean was preoccupied, Jonathan reached his other hand out to stroke Geoffrey’s face, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. Geoffrey closed his eyes and surrendered to an aching shudder.

And then it was over.

Sean pulled off, his lips stained with Jonathan’s blood until he licked every drop off, and after a long moment he sighed. “Thank you, Doctor Reid. I do feel better.” He looked better, even, face flushed, the wounds on his face Skals carried seeming to improve just a bit.

“I’m glad, Sean.”

“I think,” the Saint whispered, “I’d like to rest now. And pray.”

“Not for forgiveness, I hope,” Geoffrey muttered, but Jonathan cast him a look.

“Of course. You may stay here with us, if you’d like. We do have a small guest room as well, however.”

Geoffrey was definitely not expecting Jonathan to offer up his own bed, not to mention with the implication that he and Geoffrey would _also_ be sleeping there. He quirked his eyebrow. Jonathan was playing a very transparent game.

“I think I will make use of the guest room, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Certainly not.” Jonathan helped Sean stand. As he and Sean were leaving the room Jonathan pointed to a small bundle he’d laid on the desk. “Some fresh clothes for you. I thought you’d like to change.” Then the two of them were gone.

He was right. Geoffrey was immensely thankful as he stripped off his grimy, ruined clothing and unfolded the clothing on the desk. The soft trousers and shirt were definitely Jonathan’s and he worried they might be just a touch too small, but they turned out to be quite forgiving to the size difference between him and the vampire.

By the time he’d changed and used the water in the basin to clean himself off, Jonathan returned. Without a word he began stripping off his own clothing, fetching a pair of undershorts out of his wardrobe.

“I can hear you thinking,” he teased. “I promise I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, just not right now. Perhaps in the morning?”

“I suppose I can allow you to get some beauty sleep first,” Geoffrey sniffed.

Jonathan began turning out the bedclothes. The corner of his mouth twitched. “What do you say, for old time’s sake?”

He was truly insufferable, Jonathan was.

Still, Geoffrey climbed into the bed, surprised at how willing he was to give in to spending his third night in a row alone with Jonathan (though perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised).

He’d calmed down since watching Sean drink and there was no doubt how tired he and Jonathan both were, so when the lights went off and Jonathan slipped in beside him, Geoffrey was content not to bother him.

Jonathan, however, had to have the last word. He reached for Geoffrey in the dark and pressed their lips together for a final, searing kiss before sleep.

Geoffrey drifted off quickly, surrounded by the scent of Jonathan saturated throughout the room, his lips tingling.

\----


	6. Chapter 6

When Geoffrey awoke, the sky was still light and Jonathan showed no signs of rising anytime soon. It was warm beneath the blanket and the points where their skin touched were warmer still, and he would have liked to stay in bed a little longer, but Geoffrey was _starving_ and needed to take a piss like no one’s business.

He’d been hoping to avoid meeting the other residents of the house until he’d had a chance to clean up, but that plan was thwarted the moment he stepped out into the hallway and practically ran into the family butler. Geoffrey politely introduced himself as a friend of Jonathan’s, silently begging the older man wouldn’t notice he was very obviously wearing said man’s clothes, and the servant, Avery, positively lit up and asked him if he wouldn’t like a bite to eat?

That was how Geoffrey found himself at the Reid dinner table surrounded on all sides by glorious, glorious food.

“Mrs. Reid hasn’t the appetite she used to,” Avery explained, refilling Geoffrey’s glass with cold juice. “And it’s just not prudent to go through the trouble of making a large meal only for myself…”

“What about Jonathan?” Geoffrey asked around a mouthful of sausage, unable to help himself.

“Sir doesn’t eat at all, I’m afraid,” was Avery’s sorrowful response, “due to his condition.”

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. Did Avery know about…?

Before he could squeeze anything further out of the butler, however, the man in question appeared at the doorway to the dining room. Geoffrey must have looked quite a sight, buried as he was in impeccably cooked breakfast foods the likes of which he hadn’t eaten in a dog’s age, and it showed in the way Jonathan’s eyes crinkled fondly.

“Having a light brunch at eight o’clock in the evening, Geoffrey?”

Avery promptly swooped in and scolded Jonathan. “Let the man eat, sir.”

A smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, Jonathan took a seat at the table across from Geoffrey. “Avery, my friend, I wouldn’t dream of putting myself in between you and a hungry mouth.”

There was a newspaper on the table which Jonathan perused while Geoffrey finished eating, and the whole thing was so terribly domestic it Geoffrey’s heart hurt in a way he refused to explore. Once he’d finished, Avery regretfully took away the plates while Geoffrey rebuffed offer after offer of another course.

“Am I to assume our other friend is still asleep?”

“Yes, sir,” Avery answered. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I noticed the guest room was occupied and supplied some fresh water and towels.”

“Of course it’s alright. Thank you for being so attentive.”

“Will this friend be hungry when he wakes?” Avery asked hopefully.  
  
“Unfortunately, no. He and I are of the same ailment.”

Cupping his hands in front of him, Avery sighed. “Oh, well.”

Turning his attention to Geoffrey, Jonathan stood from the table. “I’m going to have a quick chat with the Ascalon Club. You’re welcome to join me. I’d warn you about the reception we’ll surely receive but I don’t think I need to.” Geoffrey nodded. “Very good. Avery, we’ll be back shortly.”

Geoffrey thanked Avery and excused himself, and the two of them made their way out the front door. The moment it closed behind them and they were alone in the chilly evening Geoffrey couldn’t contain his questions any longer.

“Does the butler know about you? You know, what you are? Do you suppose the Saint is alright? Not typical for a leech to sleep in past nightfall, even a Skal, isn’t that right?”

Jonathan blinked. “I don’t entirely know what Avery knows, I must admit. He understands that the Jonathan who left for the war isn’t the same as the one who came back. We don’t speak of it. My mother has her own beliefs…” He trailed off.

“And you think it’s alright to leave Sean Hampton in there with them, alone?”

“Why? Who are you afraid for in this scenario?” Geoffrey shrugged. “I’ll have you know that Sean, like most Skals, requires more rest than an Ekon. I don’t suspect anything foul is afoot.”

“Even after getting a bellyful of Ekon blood?”

“He’s a delicate sort. I don’t expect you to understand.”

Rocking back on his heels, Geoffrey took stock of Jonathan, the way his posture had closed off suddenly. “You’re awfully protective of him.”

“I suppose,” Jonathan growled. A warning.

“You said we’d talk about it,” Geoffrey shot back, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Jonathan deflated. He scratched at his beard, gazing contemplatively down the street. “There are things that occurred between us that are quite...awkward.”

They’d only gotten a short distance from the Reid house and Jonathan spoke in a near-whisper, as if Sean could somehow hear them if he didn’t.

“When he was freshly turned, you wouldn’t have recognized him as the same man you know. He was….obsessed, obsessed with flesh, with the things God wanted from him. He tried to assure me his faith and will were too strong for him to slip up, and I wanted to believe him, I did, but even as new as I am to this world I understood that what he described was fantasy.”

Geoffrey nodded. “You were right to be sceptical. Even the high and mighty leech types can’t control themselves sometimes.”

“As we confirmed last night, Ekon blood has a powerful effect on Skals. I knew that if I could force Sean to drink from me, there was a chance he could be...not cured, but stabilised.”

Geoffrey frowned. “I’m guessing he wasn’t enthusiastic?”

“Not at all,” Jonathan laughed, bitterly. “He insisted he was as God made him, and to attempt to change this was an affront to His will. I’m sure you understand that I’m not the type to be swayed by this sort of argument.” He swallowed. “I know that what I did was right. The outcome, that is, was right. My blood helped him and it needed to be done. But in order to do it I had to throw his traumas in his face, and then I.” He cut off suddenly, fists clenched at his sides.

Geoffrey took a step closer. “Just tell me, Jonathan,” he prodded.

Jonathan’s eyes, which until then had not been able to meet his, finally caught in Geoffrey’s gaze. “I subjugated him. I used his Skal nature against him and I forced him to his knees.”

Geoffrey said nothing for a moment and simply sucked in a breath. “That explains a lot,” he said eventually.

“It explains why he hardly wants anything to do with me,” Jonathan clarified, seeming to have recovered himself a little now that the worst was in out in the open.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Jonathan peered at him, guarded. “What?”

“I think you panicked and did the only thing you could think of to make him listen to you, preventing a major disaster for the district, which I thank you for, professionally.” He lowered his voice another octave. “And personally? I think Sean Hampton very much wants something to do with you, but he’s too torn up about the implications against his piety.”

Jonathan didn’t need to ask him what he meant, and he also seemed unwilling to argue about it, simply shaking his head. “You’re allowed your theories,” he said dismissively. “But at least I upheld my promise. Are there any more questions, or can we proceed?”

“Actually, yes. Holy symbols are very effective against leeches, but the Saint seems right at home among them. How can that be?” It had some unpleasant implications for Priwen, if some vampires were resistant.

“It’s funny you should ask. I asked Sean the very same question.”

“What did he say?” Geoffrey wondered, curiosity piqued.

“I’m paraphrasing, but he told me in no uncertain terms that if I had trouble with crosses, it was my own damn problem.”

Startled, Geoffrey barked with laughter. There might be some hope for the Saint yet.

“Now, if we’re finished, perhaps we could proceed?”

“If you insist, doctor.”

The Ascalon Club was worryingly close to Jonathan’s home, Geoffrey thought, as they approached the front door.

When Jonathan knocked, a slat opened up to reveal a pair of shrewd Ekon eyes.

“Doctor Reid,” the leech sneered. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve something to discuss with Lord Redgrave,” Jonathan answered, unintimidated.

“I doubt he will want to speak with you, sir.”

“Oh, I think he will. We’ve done him a rather large favour, you see, and rid him of a deranged Club reject.”

This gave the creature behind the door pause, and at last he said, “Very well, I will see if he’s available.” The slot shut with a bang.

“They’ve found a replacement doorman, I see,” Jonathan said, chuckling under his breath.

Geoffrey was about to ask, but then remembered Jonathan’s sheepish declaration the night before: “ _I did kill a large portion of their membership_.”

Leech politics were something else.

To both their surprise, when the door opened, it was to reveal Lord Redgrave himself. He was old and hawkish, pompous and smarmy, everything Geoffrey hated. His eyes narrowed when he looked upon Jonathan, then widened again when he spotted Geoffrey.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I’m sure you’ll understand that I cannot admit you inside the Club.”

“That’s fine with us,” Jonathan answered quickly, trading glances with Geoffrey. He then reached inside his coat and extracted the Ascalon letter. “I’ll make this quick. My colleague and I were held captive in an underground bunker belonging to an Ekon named Eustance Mallory Jr. You personally wrote this letter of rejection to him.”

Redgrave took it from his outstretched hands and nodded as soon as he opened it. “Yes, I sensed something unstable in him. He wasn’t Ascalon material. You say he trapped you?”

“Yes. He’s dead now,” Jonathan said by way of explanation for their escape.

“So it seems I was correct.”

“Indeed, he was as dangerous as you suspected.”

“But I don’t expect you came here just to congratulate me on my instincts?” Redgrave asked, glancing from Jonathan to Geoffrey.

“I’ve come here because that bunker still exists underneath the Mallory mansion and I’m certain you have the resources at your disposal to destroy it.”

Geoffrey thought Redgrave would argue, might demand to know why it was any of his concern, but he wilted quickly under Jonathan’s penetrating stare.

“Yes, I can have that arranged.”

“I thank you. You know as well as I do we can’t have another madman use it against our kind like this. If we hadn’t escaped, I shudder to think of the slow starvation I would have suffered.”

Redgrave gave a sympathetic little shudder. “Of course, of course. And, if I may, there is one favour I would ask of you in return.”

Geoffrey would have told him to piss off, but Jonathan was content to play along and bid him continue.  
  
“There is a matter of similar embarrassment concerning Mallory. It came to my attention that he tried to create another Ekon recently, shortly after his rejection. Instead, he sired a particularly disgusting Skal. I haven’t had the time to track it down and cannot say where it has gone, but it would be wise, I think, if you tied off that loose end. I fear it would come back harshly on the Club if it was traced back to us.”

“Very well.” Redgrave and Jonathan shook hands (delicately, as though neither wanted to touch the other), and it was decided. Jonathan didn’t ask for the letter back, and Lord Redgrave wished them a good evening and closed the door.

As they neared Reid manor again, Geoffrey broke the pensive silence. “I can handle that. Killing the Skal.”

“Nonsense,” Jonathan murmured. “I’ll have an easier time finding it than you.”

“I’m serious, Jonathan.” Geoffrey rounded on him and put his hand on his chest. “I’m a hunter. This is what I do. Let me take care of it.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities, but I need to see with my own eyes that it’s been dealt with.”

“You don’t owe those Ascalon fuckers anything,” Geoffrey countered.

Jonathan laid his hand over Geoffrey’s where it rested on his chest, his fingers snaking up to Geoffrey’s wrist. “Are you so eager to get away from me?”

“No!” Geoffrey spat hotly. “Don’t be dense. It’s just, haven’t you been through enough?”

Jonathan brought his other hand up to caress Geoffrey’s jaw, rubbing through the stubble so softly Geoffrey’s eyes slipped closed without his permission. “I have much to atone for, hunter.” His breath was a whisper against Geoffrey’s lips. “My work is never done.”

In the dark, just outside the manor, Jonathan kissed him. Geoffrey kissed back until he was breathless.

\----

Avery greeted them as they entered the front door.

“Your friend is awake,” he informed them, taking their coats. “He’s with Mrs. Reid.”

Jonathan’s brows shot up but he said nothing until they’d climbed the stairs and, sure enough, could hear voices wafting out from a nearby room.

“The Lord never forgets a child,” came Sean’s voice. “No matter the circumstances in which they may find themselves, he’s never truly left. He will guide them to everlasting peace.”

Jonathan had raised his hand to push the door open, but froze.

“What of the ones who are left behind?” It was a woman’s voice, feeble and sad. “What guidance is there for us?”

“I understand your pain, ma’am, but He does not close one door without opening another. He gives us the strength to muddle through our mortal days with kindness in our hearts, despite all we’ve suffered, and when it is time to depart, He waits for us with peace in his embrace and the chance to reunite with those we love. You and your family are part of the same circle, and it remains unbroken even now.”

Geoffrey watched Jonathan’s profile carefully. His expression was faraway, and the degree of pain in his clear blue eyes left Geoffrey at a loss. Unsure of himself, he put his hand on Jonathan’s elbow. The touch was enough to break the doctor out of his reverie and he entered the room. Geoffrey didn’t need to be told to stay put.

Through the open door he saw Jonathan’s mother, a sweet, wizened little thing, seated next to Sean Hampton. Their hands were clasped and there were tears in the old woman’s eyes.

Sean looked up when Jonathan entered. “Good evening, Doctor Reid.”

“Oh Jonathan,” said his mother, standing to greet him. “I’ve just been speaking with your lovely friend, Mr. Hampton. I hope I haven’t kept you, sir.”

“Not at all, ma’am. It has been a pleasure meeting you.”

“If I might have a word with my mother?” Jonathan said gently, and Sean understood, also standing and offering Mrs. Reid a final comforting pat on her arm before exiting the room. As he closed the door, they could hear the woman exclaiming, “You must bring him round more often, Johnny!”

Alone in the hall with Sean, Geoffrey suddenly felt a bit out of place.

Sean’s hesitant touch to his shoulder got his attention, though, and the Saint beckoned for him to follow him into Jonathan’s bedroom.

“I’d prefer not to eavesdrop,” he explained.

“Sure. What was that about?”

Sean walked about the room, trailing his fingers along the surface of Reid’s desk and shelves. Geoffrey couldn’t say exactly how he knew but there was a sense of renewed vitality about the Skal: his skin looked much better, his eyes less glassy and more piercing, a hint of a flush on his nose and cheeks.

“Mrs. Reid is a very lovely woman, but also a very lonely one.” He glanced at Geoffrey. “She believes that Jonathan is dead.”

“...is he not?”

“Perhaps medically speaking, but he is very much alive in every other aspect. He is not gone. But Mrs. Reid has experienced so much pain and loss, and her visions of her truly dead loved ones are so vivid, that she can’t but believe Jonathan is among them.”

Geoffrey was at a loss for words. He was never good at this sort of thing, at comforting or eulogizing or approaching any raw emotion, really; he carried his charisma in the set of his shoulders and the jut of his chin. So he sank down onto Jonathan’s bed and tried to seek the familiar scent of the man, the scent that so often seemed to put his mind at ease.

To his surprise, Sean sat beside him. He left a proper amount of space, naturally, but Geoffrey didn’t take him for the sort to be comfortable making himself at home on another’s man rumpled bed, especially knowing he and Geoffrey had both slept in it.

“I think she thought I was dead, too,” Sean said quietly.

“Well, uh.” Geoffrey coughed. “Perhaps medically speaking…”

When Sean let out a shocked laugh, Geoffrey couldn’t help but smile, too.

Jonathan appeared in the doorway. He admitted himself to the room and shut the door.

“Thank you for taking the time to talk with her, Sean. Truly.” Jonathan’s expression was as open as it was aggrieved, and Geoffrey felt a very unsettling stabbing sensation in his gut that made him want to do something, anything, about it.

“It’s no trouble, Doctor Reid.”

“Did Geoffrey tell you what we learned at Ascalon?”

“I was, er, getting to that,” Geoffrey coughed.

“The short of it is that our temporarily prison will be taken care of, and in return there is an unfinished matter with an illegitimate Skal that I must attend to.”

“A Skal?” Sean asked.

Jonathan’s frown was sympathetic. “We have reason to believe this one is not the rational sort, unlike our present company.”

“Makes sense enough. And where are you to find the poor creature?”

“No idea,” Geoffrey interjected. “We haven’t gotten that far.”

“I was hoping you and I could visit our mutual friend for advice on where to look?”

Geoffrey had no idea what he was talking about, but then he realized Jonathan was asking _Sean_.

Sean seemed equally startled to be addressed, but quickly nodded. “It’s certainly not the worst place to start.” His gaze flitted to Geoffrey next to him and his expression turned cloudy. “Ah, but…”

“Geoffrey, my friend, I’m afraid you won’t be able to join that part of our investigation. I think it would be best if we regrouped, perhaps tomorrow evening, and Sean and I can go together?”

“Of course, Doctor.”

Geoffrey, on the other hand, wasn’t so enthused. “Like hell. Is there a good reason I’m to stay behind?”

“Yes,” Jonathan replied sternly. “I have Skal friends I don’t wish to compromise.”

“You were worried about me with the Saint, too,” Geoffrey argued, waving his arm in Sean’s direction, “and I haven’t paraded him about the streets or gone running to Priwen.”

“In all fairness, Geoffrey, Sean is one single Skal who you agree is better for the community if he’s left alone.” He frowned deeply. “I trust Geoffrey McCullum the man, but by virtue of what I am, I cannot trust Geoffrey McCullum, leader of the Guard.”

Wasn’t that just lovely?

Competing emotions warred in Geoffrey’s mind. On the one hand, Jonathan was absolutely correct: Geoffrey was still very much loyal to Priwen, and Jonathan as a vampire was wise not to lay all his vulnerabilities at his feet. And how could Geoffrey be indignant, considering how long it took him to trust Jonathan?

On the other hand, fuck that. Fuck all they’d gone through the last two days, and fuck being forced to stay behind because Jonathan didn’t trust him enough.

It wasn’t rational, it wasn’t logical, but it still _hurt_.

“Have it your way. Where will you deign to meet with me, then, once your business is concluded?”

“Tomorrow night, perhaps around midnight. There is a safe house of mine by the Night Asylum. There’s a red door and a temperamental street light. It’s off the street but you shouldn’t miss it.”

“Great,” Geoffrey said sarcastically, “meet you there.”

And then, because he was feeling a little petty and too tired not to indulge himself, Geoffrey left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the close, friends. I've updated the chapter numbers with my presumed final chapter count, but we'll see how things shake out.
> 
> PS: Anything involving Jonathan's mum makes me super weepy and sad. I just love her and I want her to be happy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final "true" chapter of this story. The following chapter will be an epilogue of sorts. 
> 
> Thanks as always for reading!

\----

The men were ecstatic to see him.

After two days with no word, Priwen had launched a search exactly as he’d assumed they would, but he wasn’t expecting the pure relief on everyone’s faces when he came walking through the door to headquarters looking a little worse for wear.

The first to greet him were some of the newer men he’d trained personally during the outbreak: Gibbs, big and round, whose first name no one knew because he wouldn’t tell, and Pete, small but strong, whose real first name was Peotr and whose surname was name made mostly of consonants, so they all called him Pete.

“We feared the worst, sir,” Gibbs admitted. “It’s good to have you back.”

Pete was more practical, searching him all over for signs of injury. “Are you alright, Mr. McCullum?” he asked, even as he could see Geoffrey was standing and sturdy.

“I’m fine,” he said distractedly, waving the both of them away just in time for Lloyd Stanton, medic and foulmouth extraordinaire, to harangue him in the doorway and herd him into the medical section for an unwilling session of poking and prodding.

That was when Geoffrey realized he might have to start thinking a tad more quickly, as Lloyd peeled away the shirt around his neck and shoulder and caught an eyeful of the punctures Jonathan had left on him.

“Jesus Christ, McCullum!”

“It was an Ekon,” Geoffrey said gruffly. “Had me locked up in this underground base for near on three days. Got drank out of.”

Lloyd’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s a wonder you’re still bloody standing, then.”

“I think he wanted to save some for later,” Geoffrey joked.

Lloyd wasn’t so amused. He rose from his stool to fetch a portable but heavy device that looked something like a lamp. Geoffrey rolled his eyes.

“Really, Stanton?”

“Really, McCullum.”

The medic switched the device on. Powerful, warm light came shooting out, landing squarely on Geoffrey’s face and chest.

Nothing happened.

“See?” Geoffrey growled, squinting. “You can turn it off now.”

“Sorry sir, can’t be too careful,” Lloyd said, clearly not very sorry. “I suppose I can sign off on you, now. You did say you killed the fuckin’ thing, yeah?”

“With prejudice.”

Lloyd nodded. “Good, good. You’re free to go.”

Thus cleared, Geoffrey did a turn about the headquarters both to see how things had fared in his absence and to assure his men that he wasn’t dead, and when that had finished he realized how dog tired he was.

When he was shut in his quarters alone--truly alone, for the first time in days--his thoughts caught up with him in a big, sickening rush. The events of the past days, things he’d been too focused on survival to process, assaulted him: the terror of being locked underground, unsure when or if help would come; the anxiety of sharing that cramped space with a creature capable of killing him, and willing to if the hunger became strong enough; the turn of fate that occurred instead; Jonathan’s mouth and hands on him, his fangs inside his skin, the heady mix of animal fear and raw pleasure as his blood was drawn, as he fucked Jonathan; small, sincere Sean Hampton and the way he and Jonathan looked at each other; the stake through the Ekon’s heart; the deep aura of despair that surrounded the Reid home and all its inhabitants; and, most embarrassingly, when he practically threw a tantrum because he wasn’t invited along with Jonathan and Sean.

Geoffrey shucked off all his clothes and dropped onto his mattress, groaning. It was too much, and he was too sore, too emotionally wrung out, too tired.

It was lucky the men knew to give him space on his return because he fell asleep (very suddenly) and stayed asleep (for a very long time), and had anyone come to check on him they would have found him face down on the bed, unconscious as a stone and stark naked.

\----

The hideout was easy enough to find. There was some climbing involved but Geoffrey felt refreshed enough to tackle it with relative ease, letting himself into the cramped little safehouse. The inside was dismal and perfect for a vampire not wanting company, but as midnight neared Geoffrey found himself too antsy to stay put inside.

Instead he leaned over the railing of the balcony, the scent of water and industry heavy in the air, keeping an eye on the road coming up from the south.

Eventually he saw them, two shapes materializing out of the foggy darkness of the docks.

It was safe to stare here, hidden away up high, and stare Geoffrey did.

Jonathan looked as he always did, his profile defined by his refined bone structure and billowing coat. He’d cleaned up considerably, wearing a fresh suit and tie (West End toffs didn’t know how to relax, obviously), and though his brow cast his eyes in darkness, Geoffrey could see he was looking at Sean, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other gesturing along with whatever he was saying to the Saint.

The height difference between them was as amusing as always, the top of Sean’s head even with Jonathan’s nose, and it was obvious from this distance how thin Sean was, how overlarge his clothes were for him. His ear was cocked towards Jonathan, though he was looking at the path ahead instead of at the Ekon. His hair had a red tint in the glare of the streetlights.

Was he jealous? There _was_ an odd feeling that crept about inside his chest when he saw the two of them walking together, but perhaps it was more like...craving? No, yearning? Part of him was jealous, sure; it was difficult not to be involved, especially where Jonathan was concerned. But then there was that traitorous ache the thought of Jonathan inspired in him, desire tinged with the urge to please him, to see him happy.

He didn’t have to be told that Sean and Jonathan wanted each other. It was obvious, even if neither of them fully understood or were willing to explore it. And if Jonathan wanted it, Geoffrey wanted him to have it.

Geoffrey McCullum was a proud and accomplished hunter, uncompromising in pursuit and ideals, and this was an intensely foreign thing for him to want.

And yet...

Geoffrey watched as they neared, and then he saw Sean glance at Jonathan when the vampire said something that must have been particularly interesting, if his wild gestures were anything to go by, and then Sean stumbled, just a little, just enough for Jonathan to quickly reach out to steady him, one hand falling to Sean’s back and the other to his closest shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Jonathan asked, close enough now that Geoffrey could hear them.

“Oh. Yes, doctor, I am. Thank you for your assistance.”

Sean was clearly fine and yet Jonathan didn’t remove his hands, and Sean might have been leaning towards him a bit more than was strictly necessary, and, terrified he was about to see something more intimate than he should have, Geoffrey gave in the to the impulse to interrupt.

“Ahem.”

Both vampires looked up in surprise.

“Geoffrey, you made it,” Jonathan observed, and Geoffrey was very interested in the warmth twisted around the way Jonathan said his name, and even though he’d been cross with Jonathan the night before, Geoffrey found he was still immensely happy to see him.

Sean, subdued, greeted him with a tilt of his head. “Mr. McCullum.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Just a moment, we’re coming up…” Jonathan leaned over to Sean. “Can you make that jump?”

Sean shook his head, surprised at the question. “No, sir, I cannot. I haven’t attempted…”

“No matter. I’ll help you. Please try to relax.” Jonathan slipped his arm about Sean’s waist, much to the Skal’s chagrin, and looked up to where Geoffrey was standing. Wisely choosing to get out of the way, Geoffrey watched as they disappeared from the street and reappeared on the balcony, Sean stumbling a bit upon landing.

Jonathan seemed pleased. “I didn’t need to do much at all. I suspect this is something you can master if you give it a try, Sean.”

“Yes, perhaps I could,” Sean agreed, still a little unsteady on his feet as Jonathan led them inside the safe house.

“Are you feeling better today?” Jonathan asked once the door was closed.

“Yeah,” Geoffrey snorted, rubbing the back of his head. “I suppose I was feeling a bit testy.”

“You’d been through a lot,” Sean said soothingly. “And we understand it must feel frightfully unfair for us to leave you behind.”

Geoffrey didn’t want to answer that and prove the Saint right, so he frowned and said nothing. Jonathan’s eyes crinkled with a suppressed smile, and Geoffrey was struck so hard by the need to kiss him it almost made him dizzy.

“You’ll be pleased to know it wasn’t for nothing,” Jonathan was saying, derailing Geoffrey’s train of thought. “We spoke with some Skals who knew exactly who we’re looking for and where they can most likely be found.The Skal’s name is Garrett Henry. He owns Henry Glass, a small glass shop just outside Whitechapel.”

“What would a rich bloke like Mallory want with a glass blower?” Geoffrey wondered.

Sean was sat on the small, dirty bed in the corner, and he stared pensively down at his shoes. “It’s quite a sad tale, actually. When Mallory was young he was apprenticed to Henry for a time.”

“Sure, the wealthy sending their spoiled children off for a taste of the real world.”

Sean shrugged noncommittally. “It wasn’t a long apprenticeship, because Mallory was quite good at the trade, to everyone’s surprise, and he and Henry formed something of a surrogate father and son relationship. Where Eustace Mallory Sr. was cold and pushed his son hard, Henry was a relaxed and easygoing personality, and must have sensed the boy needed some nurturing. Naturally, Mallory Sr. couldn’t allow that to continue.”

“Your sources provided an awful lot of detail.”

“We pieced it together,” Jonathan said. “It turns out Sean knew Garrett Henry.”

“A long while ago,” the Saint demurred, “and only briefly. I knew little of this story.”

“Skals have a sense for bloodlines, did you know that? We needed only to describe the type of Ekon Mallory was and one of our Skal friends had a hunch about who he turned.”

“What do you mean, a ‘sense for bloodlines’?”

Sean and Jonathan traded looks.

“I can tell that Doctor Reid is of ancient, powerful blood,” Sean murmured. “I can sense the weakness in other Skals, and the varying strength of Ekons. I did not meet Mallory for very long, but I remember his power seemed...undistinguished? Perhaps that’s the right word. Stronger than me, certainly, but no match for Jonathan.”

Jonathan cleared his throat. “From what I gather it’s a signature of sorts, and Skals who have been exposed to the one we’re hunting were certain it was him.”

“And then Old--a mutual friend, rather, recalled the sad tale of Henry’s lost apprentice.”

“So why turn Henry?” Geoffrey asked, still confused.

“He was the only one to show the boy any affection, sir. As far as Mallory was concerned, he was turning his father, so they could be family forever. Unfortunately, that was not meant to be.” He could see why they called Sean the Sad Saint; the man sat there wringing his hands, a crestfallen look troubling his features and his shoulders sagging with the weight of everyone else’s woes upon them.

Strength wore many guises. Geoffrey could not have supported the burden as Sean did. He would have been crushed long ago underneath it.

“We believe he’s still at the Henry Glass shop, tucked away under the quarantine.”

“Then let’s go,” Geoffrey said, resolute.

Sean stood, preparing to follow them, but Jonathan stopped him.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to accompany us. It could be dangerous.”

“I appreciate your concern, doctor, but I’d like to see this through, especially as it’s one of my own kind involved.” Geoffrey had made peace with how alarming Sean’s Skal features were, or so he’d thought, but suddenly he was feeling uneasy again as Sean’s brows knitted tightly and his piercing eyes cut into Jonathan.

To his credit, the Ekon wasn’t backing down. “No, Sean. Please. This is not your fight.”

“You may be my master by virtue of what you and I are,” Sean said coldly, “but you cannot order me about. I’m going with you.”

“He should come,” Geoffrey interrupted quickly, cutting off whatever angry remark Jonathan was poised to make. “He has every right.”

Jonathan’s scathing look said _not you, too!_ but he couldn’t last against both of them and he conceded, however grudgingly. “If that’s your prerogative, then fine.”

Sean approached Jonathan and took Jonathan’s hand in his. “I will be careful,” he vowed, holding Jonathan’s hand as if sealing a pact. “God will always look after me.”

“I think,” Geoffrey laughed, sidling up behind Jonathan and placing his hand over theirs, “it’s us who’ll be looking after you.”

\----

Henry Glass sat amid other boarded storefronts in a small nook not far from the canal. Buried under debris and signage warning of the flu, it was a task in itself just to reach the place.

“There’s a Skal inside,” Jonathan confirmed, and after that they were through trying to be subtle and Geoffrey smashed the front window with a sturdy table leg he found on the street. Immediately they heard screaming from inside, the Skal shrieking at the sudden noise. That howl always sent shivers up Geoffrey’s spine, but knowing he was with someone he could trust to back him up in a fight, not to mention another certain someone he felt oddly compelled to protect, well. It made for a potent courage cocktail.

The thing was crouching, legs bent at odd angles, clutching its head, in front of one of the large furnaces. It was stiflingly hot inside and the creature’s skin was alive with a strange glow that seemed to pulse and wriggle within its many abrasions and lumps.

Sean took a step back, not needing to be asked to keep himself separate from the battle that was about to ensue.

Their cover had been completely blown when they broke the window, so the moment Jonathan set foot into the sweltering room the Skal was on him, screaming and going for his throat.

There wasn’t a lot of open space, so not the best conditions for a projectile weapon, and yet Geoffrey was torn; he wasn’t keen on getting close enough for the Skal to touch him.

Jonathan stood his ground, tearing the Skal off his body and throwing it backwards into a table full of heavy-looking molds and tools.

“Ugh,” he groaned, and when he turned around Geoffrey could see that the places on Jonathan’s neck not protected by his clothing were seared as if by fire or sunlight.

“Don’t let it touch your skin,” the Ekon warned, unnecessarily.

With his left hand Geoffrey drew his pistol and with his right he gripped his sword, hoping he could keep the thing out of arm’s reach. When it rounded on Jonathan again Geoffrey was ready, steamrolling into it with his sword outstretched. It pierced the Skal’s shoulder and blood poured out of the wound, but it was glowing and oozy and caused a blast of heat to assault Geoffrey’s face and body.

He stumbled back, covering his eyes with his elbow, and raised the pistol, firing somewhat blindly.

It wasn’t a direct hit on anything important but it was enough to stun the Skal for a moment, which was plenty of time for Jonathan to hit it with a stew of concentrated shadow. He wouldn’t be using his claws for this one, that was apparent.

When the Skal got back up, they hit it again, a one-two-three punch of sword and bullet and long distance vampire voodoo, batting it back and forth across the room.

It wasn’t a one-sided fight, however; a few times the Skal got close enough to shred their clothing with its claws, and once while Geoffrey was reloading it grabbed his arm and caused his sleeve to start smoldering. He cried out when the heat bit through to his skin, and then Jonathan was there, his eyes blazing, his snarl ferocious.

He slammed into the Skal with his body and the two of them fell through the doorway and into the room where Sean was waiting.

Geoffrey chased after them, bursting into the room in time to see Sean backing up against the far wall near the broken window.  

The creature had gotten Jonathan underneath it and it seized him by the wrists, the unprotected skin growing angry and blistered. Jonathan kicked it in the gut but the Skal didn’t let go, so it only served to tighten the pull on his arms. Geoffrey crouched and hit it in the back with his fresh clip of bullets at an angle so as not to hit Jonathan. It allowed Jonathan to regain control of the fight a little but caused more of that molten blood to ooze from the Skal’s body, and it sizzled in all the places it dripped onto Jonathan.

“Garrett Henry!” said a sharp and commanding voice. It was the Saint. He looked furious, and the Skal whipped its head up to look at him. “Stop this at once!”

If anything the words enraged the Skal more and it went berserk, slashing at Jonathan and howling like a crazed beast.

“Garrett!” Sean tried again, voice loud and unwavering.

Geoffrey didn’t think he had it in him. Then again, he’d been finding an awful lot of things he’d been wrong about lately.

And this time the Skal seemed to think the command worthy of his attention, switching its focus to Sean.

It began walking towards him, claws outstretched and glinting, and Geoffrey knew it was the last thing it would ever do because Jonathan reached out and tugged it by the ankles. It fell immediately. Geoffrey flipped his sword in his hands and, in one swift motion, put his knees upon the Skal’s back and drove his sword straight into its head.

Then he rolled off, grunting, the lower portion of his legs singed by the Skal’s skin and tender. Horrible, rasping groans were issuing from the creature’s throat, until Jonathan retrieved his stake and silenced them with one final downward thrust.

Garrett Henry was dead and their mission was over.

Geoffrey lay on his back on the floor, panting. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sean approaching Jonathan, and he sat up in time to see the Saint kneel, putting himself level with the doctor. His hands were steady as he reached for Jonathan’s, and he cradled his wrists delicately, oh so gently, the skin still scalded black.

And then Geoffrey thought he must be hallucinating, because Sean raised Jonathan’s wrist to his mouth and...licked it. He licked a long stripe up the burn on one side of his wrist and then down the other side, and then he blew gently over the wet patches, and then he did it again, and then he did it to Jonathan’s other wrist.

All the while Jonathan knelt, eyes half-lidded and focused only on Sean’s ministrations, until the burn began to recede and he let out a shaky breath.

There was a cut high up on his collar that wasn’t bleeding overly much but there was enough that Jonathan could run his thumb over it and gather some blood, and Geoffrey watched, completely enraptured, as Jonathan used that thumb to pull down Sean’s bottom lip before pressing the bloody digit onto Sean’s tongue. The effect on the Skal was instant, Sean’s chest fluttering as he sucked, and when the thumb was clean he practically fell onto Jonathan.

“The Lord is my shepherd,” he rasped, “I shall not want.”

Jonathan cupped Sean’s face and leaned close. “Oh, you want.”

“God help me,” Sean whimpered, and then his mouth fell upon Jonathan’s wound and he was using his sharp teeth to open it further, pulling blood from it by force.

Jonathan grimaced but only for a moment, and then he relaxed, his fingers winding behind Sean’s head and stroking through the Skal’s hair as he drank. He made eye contact with Geoffrey, and the hunter realized very suddenly that he was lightheaded with arousal.

Jonathan’s eyebrow quirked but he looked pleased to be watched. Geoffrey was relieved for it; he had always stared too long and thought too hard, and yet he’d found someone who was glad to make a voyeur of him.

He was not content, however, to remain a voyeur.

“We need,” he started, swallowing hard. “We should take him somewhere. We need to go somewhere.”

“Agreed,” Jonathan answered, and the rumble of his voice combined with his hand gently leading Sean’s chin away caused the Skal to pull off, lips bloody and eyes unfocused. Jonathan’s hands fell to his waist, holding him in place. “I don’t think I can move just yet.”

“Why, what is it?”

Jonathan’s eyes were hopelessly dark. His fingers tightened on Sean’s hips.

“It is...overwhelming,” he choked out. “For all that I’m not Sean’s Maker, there is this...this feeling, this incredible feeling...feedback, endlessly.”

Sean growled.

Oh, Christ.

Geoffrey got to his feet with purpose. “Stay put,” he commanded, though he needn’t have bothered. The two of them looked glued in place.

He carefully exited out the broken window and kicked through the rubble on the street outside, spinning about until he saw a residential building. Adrenaline coursed through him as he broke the boards on the door with his shoulder, and after a sweep confirmed there were no creatures living or undead within the dwelling, he returned as quickly as his feet could carry him to the pair of vampires still engrossed in their...feedback session.

“Follow me,” he said, tugging at Jonathan’s arm. “I found a place next door. It’s empty. Come on.”

Reluctantly Sean untangled himself and though he leaned heavily on Jonathan the two were at least capable of walking, and Geoffrey led them to the house, blocking off the door behind him with something that was once a dresser or shelf. Jonathan and Sean were already heading up the narrow stairs. The house was taller than it was wide, and the upstairs was taken up almost entirely by the bedroom. The previous occupants had left in a hurry and the room was in a state of total disarray, but the bed was big and intact and frankly that was all Geoffrey’s brain was capable of processing at the moment.

Perhaps he was feeling a bit left out after all, because he made a point to stride over to Jonathan, seize him by the lapels, and kiss him fiercely before Sean could get his hands on him again. Jonathan’s hands roamed over his body, shucking Geoffrey’s outer layers off him until he was in his shirtsleeves, and when Geoffrey’d had enough of being treated like a mannequin he pulled away from Jonathan with one last nip of his bottom lip and then shoved the Ekon onto the bed, his legs draped over the side and feet just brushing the ground.

Jonathan’s erection was straining against his trousers when he lifted his head to watch Geoffrey drop to the floor in front of him. He gestured for Sean and the man came unquestioningly, following Geoffrey’s example and falling in beside him.

“Tell me,” Geoffrey demanded, leaning over Jonathan to start unbuttoning his many layers, content to peel the clothing back as he couldn’t remove it completely without Jonathan’s help. “Tell me what it’s like. With you two.”

Sean pressed his lips to Jonathan’s clothed knee reverently. “He is not my Maker and yet to my mind and my body he is as good as,” the Saint explained quietly. “I am drawn to his blood. I can hear his voice in my head. I cannot resist the compulsion, Lord help me.”

Jonathan’s fingers curled into Sean’s hair again. He was twitching and seemed liable to jump out of his skin, especially when Geoffrey took the initiative to unbutton his trousers and begin sliding them down his legs. He sat up, lifting his body to assist and shucking off his undone shirt in the process.

Sean may have been overtaken by his drive to serve his Maker, but there was still enough of the Saint left in him to blush as Jonathan’s long, pale legs came into view along with his engorged member. It wasn’t quite equitable that Jonathan was the only one undressed, but Geoffrey thought it was fair enough as he observed the rise and fall of Jonathan’s chest, the twitch of his muscles.

“My mind and body, too, recognize you as my progeny,” Jonathan confided in a whisper, the hand that was in Sean’s hair dropping to his jaw. “It feels…”

Sean’s eyes closed. He turned his head and put his mouth upon the inside of Jonathan’s wrist, and Jonathan shuddered as he bit down and blood began spilling out.

Jonathan’s head fell back and he hissed in pleasure.

It took him by surprise, therefore, when Geoffrey grasped his cock and began to pull on it slowly, starting a torturous pace. Geoffrey slid his other hand up Jonathan’s leg, to his thigh, and then he lowered his body down and angled Jonathan’s cock into his mouth. The first touch of his hot tongue to Jonathan’s member had the Ekon gasping.

They kept at it for a time, Sean sucking on his blood and Geoffrey sucking on his cock, until Jonathan’s cock starting twitching dangerously and he forced them both to break off, panting hard and staring at them in turn with blown-out pupils and his hair askew.

Oh, how truly, intensely gratifying, to see the controlled and affluent Doctor Jonathan Reid mussed and lecherous.

Geoffrey shucked off his clothing as if it was on fire and, once bare, joined Jonathan on the bed. His own flushed cock rubbed against Jonathan’s side and the friction felt amazing, so he ground into the Ekon a few more times.

A quick glance in Sean’s direction showed the man still knelt on the floor and staring at them as hard as Geoffrey had stared at them earlier. It was good to see it wouldn’t take much coercion to get him involved, even if he still felt delicate about the finer details of sex. Geoffrey had been sure Jonathan was in for a long game trying to get the Saint into bed.

Jonathan straddled Geoffrey and pushed him down. Their cocks touched and Jonathan kissed Geoffrey hard, grinding his hips into the other man as his hands ran up and down Geoffrey’s arms, feeling the hard muscle of his biceps.

Geoffrey clutched Jonathan’s hips and then his arse, squeezing just slightly, and Jonathan seemed to understand the question just as he had the first time, and he nodded and whispered against Geoffrey’s lips “please” and “I need it” and things that wouldn’t have sounded genuine coming from anyone else but for snooty Jonathan Reid to say these things to a ruffian like Geoffrey was--well, it was intoxicating.

“I need you to hand me my coat,” he said to Sean, moving Jonathan off him. When he’d tucked the little vial of protectant back into his pocket at Priwen headquarters, it had been in the knowledge that he would almost certainly use it again soon, and not to cover a wound.

Sean handed the coat over and Geoffrey retrieved it from the pocket.

“Undress,” he told Sean in lieu of a thank you, and though Sean didn’t have any real reason to obey him he nodded shakily and with unsteady hands began removing his blazer and shirt.

While Sean slowly revealed his pale and bruised skin, Geoffrey kept Jonathan busy by sliding his slick fingers inside of him one by one, remembering from last time how Jonathan liked it when he let his fingertips glide over Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan would surely be able to provide the same service to him, and with those skilled doctor’s fingers he could probably force Geoffrey to slowly combust. He resolved to try it as soon as possible.

When he felt Jonathan was ready, he guided Jonathan into a sitting position and slid underneath him so Jonathan was sitting in his lap, his back to Geoffrey’s chest. Jonathan’s legs entangled with his and his feet rubbed against Geoffrey’s calves.

It was easy, so easy, to hold his cock in place and let Jonathan lower himself over it, the Ekon sighing deeply as he seated fully. He leaned back against Geoffrey, his head falling onto the hunter’s shoulder, and it seemed natural to put his mouth on Jonathan’s neck and nibble and suck, trailing harmless bites up and down over the curve of his shoulder as he adjusted to the feeling of Jonathan’s tight body encasing his cock.

There was a thin scar behind Jonathan’s ear that he’d never noticed and he pressed a kiss against it.

A hand laid softly over his knee startled Geoffrey before he realized it was Sean. The Saint had crawled closer to them and he insinuated himself between their legs.

“Look at him,” Geoffrey murmured in Jonathan’s ear. “Look at your progeny.”

“Sean,” Jonathan gasped.

Geoffrey lifted Jonathan by the hips and thrust into him roughly. Sean and Jonathan both cried out.

“Don’t you like him like this?” Geoffrey asked Sean, bouncing Jonathan up and down on his cock. He wrapped his hand around Jonathan’s front and took up his cock, stroking in time with his hips. “Can you feel your Maker’s pleasure?”

Geoffrey released Jonathan and reached a little further until he could grasp Sean’s arm and tug him closer, until Sean’s chest was nearly touching Jonathan’s flushed cock.

He wasn’t going to force Sean to touch or interact with them, so it came as another pleasant surprise when Sean tentatively brushed his palm over Jonathan’s member. Jonathan’s reaction was gratifying indeed--a deep inhalation followed by a shudder.

“Closer,” the Ekon murmured.

Geoffrey was happy to oblige.

Without fully removing himself from Jonathan’s body he worked them backwards, pulling Jonathan up against him on the bed as he laid on his side. Content that Sean had enough space to join them if he wanted, Geoffrey resumed his movements, thrusting slowly but firmly.

The bed creaked and dipped and over Jonathan’s shoulder he could see Sean climbing up and laying beside Jonathan. Finally, god damned _finally_ , the two of them bowed their heads together and kissed.

It was gentle at first, hesitant lips meeting and parting, but once Jonathan convinced Sean to open his mouth it quickly turned heated, Jonathan swallowing Sean’s small noises with enthusiasm. He encouraged Sean to come closer until they were flush, Sean’s leg joining the tangle and his cock coming into full contact with Jonathan’s.

Sean was muttering breathless prayers and voicing subconscious desires and Jonathan was soothing him, urging him on, moving his hips against Sean’s in counter to Geoffrey’s thrusts, and Geoffrey chased his pleasure, mouthing the lean muscles of Jonathan’s shoulder and back and neck and making a mess of him.

“That’s it, Sean.” Jonathan muttered. “That it’s, my progeny, Sean...just like that…”

Sean let out a helpless cry and Geoffrey knew then that he was coming, knew by the frenzied pitch of Jonathan’s voice and the heightened smell of sex in the room, and he knew Jonathan could probably feel what Sean was feeling and Sean could feel what Jonathan was feeling and on a particularly frenetic thrust Geoffrey lost control completely, groaning into Jonathan’s skin as he emptied himself inside him.

He came to his senses in time to reach over Jonathan’s hip and meet Sean’s hand on Jonathan’s cock as he twitched one last time and surrendered to his own orgasm, adding a second coating of seed in between his body and Sean’s.

Overcome with exhaustion, Geoffrey lay there unable to move, unable to do anything but breathe, until Jonathan leaned back and engaged him in a sluggish kiss. Jonathan had Sean gathered up against him, Sean’s hands petting over the doctor’s chest and stomach.

It was so ridiculous, so close to impossible, that Geoffrey could be allowed to have this. That he could have Jonathan, that he could be close to what Jonathan and Sean had. Maybe someday he and Sean, too, could find something.

He’d never thought about this before. It’d simply never occurred to him to want something like this, and before he had it he would have thought it was a waste of time to want it. Now that he did have it, though…

“I’m tired,” he said against Jonathan’s shoulder. He _was_ tired, and equally eager to stay put and snooze all through the upcoming day, as long as they stayed with him.

Jonathan laughed softly. “We’re all tired, Geoffrey.”

“Good,” he replied. “Then we’re staying here.”

Sean hummed in agreement, and nothing more was said.

Dawn broke, but the sunlight did not reach them inside the house. As the sun climbed and then descended over the sky, the three of them slept: entangled, messy, and content.

\----


	8. Chapter 8

\----

 

They hadn’t seen him yet, so he took the opportunity to observe. He’d watched many a leech this way, waiting for his patience to pay off.

The two vampires below were moving things around in the well-lit courtyard. The city had been on the mend in the past months and places of healing like Pembroke and the Night Shelter had been able to scale back their haphazard, frantic spread of tents, supplies, and overworked staff. The figures were dismantling a tent, one taller and able to untie the canvas at the top, while the smaller one helped gather the cloth as it fell.

They moved crates, lifting and removing the heaviest of them together, working as one to clear the area, and Geoffrey observed them for a long time, longer than he’d intended, simply making note of their clothing and posture, their features and the words they called out to each other as they toiled.

When the longing became too great, he decided it was time to blow his cover.

Leaping down from the stone wall, he landed carefully but quite loudly, drawing the vampires’ attention immediately.

“Mr. McCullum,” Sean greeted him with a smile. “Welcome.” He approached Geoffrey but did not reach for him; the two of them were still a little unsure how to negotiate around one another, but they would get there.

“Hello Sad Saint.” Geoffrey laid a hand on Sean’s shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin above his collar briefly before they both had their attention diverted by Jonathan’s presence.

Jonathan didn’t have so many qualms, and though he did cast a glance around the courtyard to make sure no one was watching, he reached for Geoffrey and pressed their foreheads together for a long moment, sharing breath. Then he chuckled. “How kind of you to arrive after the bulk of the work is already completed.”

Pulling back, Geoffrey grinned. “I got held up at Priwen, but it looked like you two had it handled.” When Jonathan looked less than impressed, he added, “I’m here now, though, so just tell me what I can do.”

“You are here now,” Jonathan agreed. “And it can wait.”

“Come now, you can’t give me grief for being late and then deny my help.”

Sean stepped forward, wrapping his hand around Jonathan’s forearm. “It can wait,” he insisted softly, draining the fight out of Geoffrey more efficiently than anyone else in his life had been able to.

Almost in a daze, he followed them inside the Night Shelter, past sleeping figures on their cots and into Sean’s office and the tiny, adjoining bedchamber. It hadn’t always been so cramped when Sean’s single cot occupied the space, but now there were two cots pushed together and it gave them little room to maneuver as they removed clothing one article at a time, sometimes their own and sometimes each other’s. One by one each item fell to the floor in a pile. They’d sort through it later. Jonathan and Geoffrey had ended up with one another’s shirts on accident, and there was one hilarious incident where Jonathan was halfway into Sean’s trousers before he realized his error and the two of them had to carefully extract him from them.

Jonathan clutched Sean’s body possessively, his hands running gently over the bruised flesh. It had been a long process, but Sean seemed to finally be at peace with displaying his body to them. Jonathan mouthed at his neck and Sean cried out, leaning back against the Ekon, and Geoffrey practically tripped over himself to finish getting his shoes and slacks off, and once he succeeded he fell to his knees and approached the two vampires.

Sean jumped when Geoffrey’s cold hands landed on his thighs, but his gasp of surprise turned into a moan as Geoffrey grasped his cock and took it into his mouth with little preamble. He worked the little Skal until he was coming undone in Jonathan’s arms, thrashing his head back and barely kept standing, and finally Geoffrey pulled off with a wet pop and grinned wolfishly as Sean panted.

Jonathan set him down on the bed and dragged Geoffrey off his knees and onto the mattress, kissing him deeply. The slide of Jonathan’s hot tongue against his always drove Geoffrey mad. He cupped Jonathan’s face, blunt fingernails scraping at his scalp, and Jonathan touched him all over, at his waist, hips, thighs, his shoulders, his neck.

His hands brushed over Geoffrey’s stomach and he dug in a little. “Someone has been spending a great deal of time at the Reid dining table, I see,” he teased, kneading the soft flesh.

Geoffrey growled.

Then Sean was there, leaning over both of them and burying his face into Jonathan’s arm, teeth playfully threatening. He opened his eyes and fixed Geoffrey with that golden Skal stare that always...just…

“I’m afraid I must speak up for Mr. McCullum’s honour, Doctor Reid. He is not always at the dining room table; occasionally he eats in your bed, as well.”

Sean would know that, the little sneak; he was at the Reid mansion a lot himself, visiting with Mrs. Reid, sometimes taking her out on brief walks to keep her from stagnating inside the house when Jonathan was too busy at the hospital.

“That does explain the crumbs,” Jonathan mused, glaring at Geoffrey over Sean’s head.

Geoffrey shoved both of them onto the bed, and in short order there was no time left for talking but for whispered commands of _come here_ and _yes, like that_ and _turn over, darling_ , and then the world ground to a halt as Jonathan carefully slid his cock inside Geoffrey’s arse, leaving the hunter breathless and scrabbling at Jonathan’s back, red welts manifesting up and down his pale skin.

The two of them switched often in their exploits, almost equally content to give and take. Geoffrey fell just on the side of preferring to give, and Jonathan just at preferring to take, but it depended greatly on their moods and whatever felt right at the time.

Sean wasn’t there yet. Perhaps he never would be, Geoffrey wasn’t sure. The Saint had a history rife with trauma and guilt, and he and Jonathan didn’t need to speak of it to agree there’d be no forcing him. In the meanwhile they were content to take it out on one another’s bodies.

Sean watched them fuck, his eyes hazy and his hand occasionally straying to his own cock only to quickly remove itself.

Jonathan lifted Geoffrey’s hips to plunge in at a better angle and Geoffrey helplessly reached out across the mattress for Sean. The Saint took his hand and stroked it, rubbing his knuckles and palm and wrist in a way that was both soothing and maddeningly erotic. That, combined with Jonathan’s relentless thrusting, had Geoffrey coming quickly, and he used his other hand to anchor his member as it pulsed, coating him in semen.

Sean wriggled closer, nosing along Geoffrey’s temple, and when the hunter grunted, “just...just do it,” Sean latched onto his neck and broke the skin, not drinking deeply but slowly sucking a few drops at a time.

The sight of Sean feeding on Geoffrey put Jonathan into a frenzy, and soon he was losing his rhythm and muttering obscenities and gripping Geoffrey’s hips hard enough to bruise, and then Geoffrey felt the faint sensation of warmth and pressure as Jonathan came inside him.

But Jonathan wasn’t finished, an overachiever as always, and as soon as he regained his senses he adjusted Sean’s body so his hips faced him and then he set upon Sean’s cock, intent on finishing the job Geoffrey started.

Sean cried out, Geoffrey’s blood on his lips, as Jonathan swallowed him down, and Sean gripped both of them by the hair, tugging unconsciously as his body spasmed with his release.

Jonathan drank it greedily and then captured Sean’s lips, licking Geoffrey’s blood from them.

Geoffrey couldn’t do much more than lay there and pant while Sean cleaned him with a rag and Jonathan kissed the sweat from his hairline. The air was thick with the scent of the three of them. Geoffrey could pick out which notes belonged to whom: his own musky human sweat, of course, but also Jonathan’s earthiness, the tang of sterile places, his fancy cologne, and Sean’s soft, woodsy scent, like secondhand books and church pews.

He adored it. Didn’t know what he’d do without it, now that he’d had it.

There was always that lurking fear, however, even as they settled in together, their skin cooling in the pre-dawn air, Jonathan and Geoffrey facing one another with Sean in the middle, curled back to chest with Jonathan. The fear of being left behind. The fear that his Priwen principles had been turned on their head and his life spun upside down and his preconceptions shattered and then put back together again, all of this just to be alone again, or to die while they went on.

There were so many problems in the long term. He didn’t want to think of them in that moment; he wanted only to hold Jonathan’s hand and stroke Sean’s hip and fall asleep knowing they would be there when he awoke.

The rest could wait.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story! I've loved writing it and I have a short sequel in mind that I hope to put out soon. 
> 
> Shoutout to the two Spotify playlists that never fail to put me in the Vampyr headspace: "Vampire Night Club" by Sergio GS, and "Dark Waltz" by Eradiel.


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